








































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































The Children’s Classics 


Homer 

The Iliad for Boys and Girls 

Retold by Rev. A. J. Church 
Illustrations after Flaxman 

The Fables of AZsop 

Edited by Joseph Jacobs 
Illustrated by Richard Heighway 

The Arabian Nights 

Edited by Padraic Colum 
Illustrated by Eric Pape 

The Brothers Grimm 
Household Tales 

Translated by Lucy Crane 
Illustrated by Walter Crane 

Hans Christian Andersen 
Fairy Tales and Stories 

Edited by Francis Hackett and 
Signe Toksvig 
Illustrated by Eric Pape 

English Fairy Tales 

Retold by F. A. Steel 
Illustrated by Arthur Rackham 


Charles and Mary Lamb 
Tales from Shakespeare 

Illustrated by Maud and 
Miska Petersham 

Jonathan Swift 
Gulliver’s Travels 

Illustrated by Charles Brock 

Charles Dickens 
A Christmas Carol 

Illustrated by Francis D. Bedford 

Lewis Carroll 

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland 
and Through the Looking Glass 

Illustrated by John Tenniell 

Robert Louis Stevenson 
Treasure Island 

Illustrated by Warwick Goble 

Richard Henry Dana 
Two Years Before the Mast 

Illustrated by Charles Pears 

Other titles preparing 











































































rami tales mb stories 


PREFACED BY FRANCIS HACKETT 


EDITED BY iSIGNE TOKSVIG 


ILLUSTRATED BY ERIC PAPE 






■< VAh ;V. : Vi 


MJICMLLIIH COKPAHY, PUBLISHERS 
HEW YORK - MCHXXHI 

































































































































PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



COPYRIGHT I92I 

By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 


Set up and printed. Published November, 1921. 
Reissue, August, 1928. 


t> 1 m u 


FERRIS PRINTING COMPANY 
NEW YORK 
















EDITOR’S NOTE 


Before Hans Christian Andersen wrote a story, he 
told it to some child, and then he put it on paper, 
trying to keep it in the same easy conversational lan¬ 
guage. Naturally his style had no academic elegance, 
and for this he was scolded by many of his contem¬ 
poraries. His English translators seem to have 
agreed with those forgotten critics. The different 
versions from which the tales in this volume were 
selected all lift Andersen to an edifying refinement 
and forced quaintness very far from his own direct 
and natural manner. A great deal of drastic edit¬ 
ing has therefore been necessary and much actual 
translation. Even so, many stiff turns and awkward 
phrases are left, but perhaps enough has been changed 
to restore some of the simplicity of the original. 




















PAGE 


Hans Christian Andersen ....... xv 

The Tinderbox ......... 1 

Little Claus and Big Claus ....... 9 

The Princess on the Pea ........ 24 

Little Ida’s Flowers . . . . . . . .26 

Tommelisa .......... 36 

The Traveling Companion ....... 49 

The Little Mermaid ........ 73 

The Emperor’s New Clothes ....... 99 

The Steadfast Tin Soldier ....... 106 

The Wild Swans.113 

The Swineherd ......... 132 


The Nightingale 


138 


















ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


The Ugly Duckling ........ 150 

The Snow Queen ......... 162 

First story: Which treats of the mirror and the pieces of it. 

Second story: A little boy and a little girl. 164 

Third story: The flower garden of the woman who could con¬ 
jure. 172 

Fourth story: The prince and the princess. 181 

Fifth story: The little robber girl. 189 

Sixth story: The Lapp woman and the Fin woman. 195 

Seventh story: What happened in the snow queen’s castle and 

what happened afterwards. 199 

The Darning Needle. ........ 204 

Booby Hans.. 209 
















































=» x \!' • / 






// 


FASCINATING *i- 
FAPER CUTTINGS ^ 
WERE MATE BY H.C. 
ANDERSEN FOR HIS 
YOUNG ADMIRERS. 
THESE FAIRY-LIKE H 
PICTURES HAVE RE¬ 
MARKABLE CHARM. 

























E.H 


Frontispiece 


C. A., com- 


Half-Title, Hans Christian Andersen 
Elisa ........ 

Title Page ....... 

Copyright ....... 

Editor’s Note. A number of paper cuttings by H. 
bined in this design .... 

Contents, Heading ..... 

Tailpiece, “That the spirit of Andersen may live forever” 
The immortal Andersen .... 

A combination of silhouettes by H. C. A. . 

List of Illustrations, Heading with silhouette in facsimile . 
From a paper cutting by H. C. A. Tailpiece. 

Preface, Heading includes facsimile of paper cutting by H. C. A. 
Birthplace of H. C. A. 

Tailpiece, cutting by H. C. A. 

The Beginning, The Fairy Torch. 

The Tinder Box, Heading .... 

“Mercy on us, what a lot of gold ” . 

Little Claus and Big Claus, Pleading 
It was the farmer who was going home 
“Get up all my horses” .... 

“You mustn’t say that” 

Tailpiece 


m 

iv 


vn 
• •• 
vm 

ix 

x 

xi 


1 

To face page 1 
9 

. 12 
To face page 13 

11 

23 


























ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


The Princess on the Pea, Heading ..... 24 

So the Prince married her .... To face page 25 
Tailpiece, The pea was placed in the art museum . . 25 

Little Ida’s Flowers, Heading, silhouette is from a cutting 

by H. C. A. . . . . . . . .26 

The flowers in the doll’s bed .... To face page 29 
Tailpiece, As soon as the flowers hear the keys rattle they 
are very quiet ........ 35 

Tommelisa, Heading, fairy stage in facsimile from H. C. A’s cutting 36 
Tommelisa on her throne .... To face page 48 


48 

49 
52 
56 
65 


Tailpiece, the mole talking to the field mouse 
The Travelling Companion, Heading, There was crepe on the 
sugar pigs ........ 

Johannes was thinking of the big, splendid world 
The old crone was able to walk much better than before 
“What a hail storm!’’ said the princess at every blow 
Tailpiece, All the houses danced. Drawn in facsimile after 
a drawing by H. C. A.* ...... 

The Little Mermaid, Heading ...... 

The ship lay over on her side . 

The little mermaid sang most sweetly of all 
The rays fell mild and warm on the cold sea foam 
Tailpiece ...... 

The Emperor’s New Clothes, Heading 

The people could see they were hard at work 
“But he has nothing on,” a little child cried out 
Tailpiece, facsimile of cutting by H. C. A. 

The Steadfast Tin Soldier, Heading . 

Every soldier was the living image of all the rest 
“Stop Him!” shouted the rat 
Tailpiece, suggested by cuttings by H. C. A. 

The Wild Swans, Heading .... 

Yesterday I saw eleven swans swimming in the 

river ...... To face page 118 

Tailpiece, a silhouette by H. C. A. under which he wrote, 

“ It looks dark” ....... 131 

The Swineherd, Heading, the rose and the nightingale were put 

into big silver cases and sent to the princess . . . 132 

Tailpiece, facsimile of silhouette by H. C. A. . . . 137 

*From Marie’s picture book. Andersen made “picture books” 
for his many friends, chief among whom were the children, Marie, 
Agnete and Charlotte. 


. 72 

. 73 

To face page 80 
To face page 84 
. 97 

98 

. 99 

To face page 101 
. 104 

. 105 

. 106 
. 108 
. 109 

. 112 
. 113 





ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


The Nightingale, Heading, It was the little live nightingale . 138 

“Tsing-pe,” said the cavalier . . . To face page 146 

Tailpiece, something inside the bird went pop . . . 149 

The Ugly Duckling, Heading, She so seldom had visitors . . 150 

“Piep! Piep!” said the little one, and rolled out . . . 152 

“ They’re all pretty but that one,” said the old duck . . 154 

Tailpiece, It doesn’t matter if one is brought up among ducks 
so long as one is hatched from a swan’s egg . . . 161 

The Snow Queen. First story. Heading, facsimile from paper 

cutting by H. C. A.162 

The devil’s mirror. To face page 163 -• 

Second story. Heading, Kay.164 

The Snow Queen’s Crown . . . . . .169 

Tailpiece, Kay and Gerda’s roses ..... 171 

Third story. Heading, The old woman had on a large sun- 
bonnet . . . . . . . • . . 172 

Tailpiece, One leaf after another dropped .... 180 

Fourth story. Heading, Gerda . . . . .181 

The princess sat on a pearl as big as a spinning 

wheel ...... To face page 183 

Tailpiece, The newspapers had a border of hearts . .188 

Fifth story, Heading, The coach gleamed like a torch . . 189 

The old robber woman was dancing with her brat To face page 190 
Tailpiece, A robber’s pistol . . . . . .194 

Sixth story. Heading, The reindeer . . . . .195 

Tailpiece, The red berries in the snow . . . .198 

Seventh story. Heading, Kay and Gerda were grown up but 
children in their hearts . . . . . .199 


The Darning Needle, Heading, a design embodying silhouette 

of H. C. A. . . . . . . . . 204 

Two street boys were grubbing in the gutter To face page 207 

Tailpiece, silhouette suggested by a number of cuttings by 
H. C. A.208 

Booby Hans, Heading ........ 209 

“Hello, here I am,” shouted Booby Hans .... 211 

Then Booby Hans was a King and he had a wife and a crown 213 
Tailpiece, facsimile of clipping by H. C. A. ... 214 

The End, Love and Chivalry . . . . . . 215 



f P. 













HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 

I 

O know Hans Christian Andersen you must 
read The Ugly Duckling. He was him¬ 
self the ugly duckling. Toward the end 
of his life he rested back cheerfully and 
said in his swan song, “My life is a lovely 
story, happy and full of incident. . . .” But that 

was after it had been discovered that he was a swan. 
When he told so humorously but so sympathetically 
about the poor, miserable duckling that every one 


























































ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


pecked at because lie was too big and was so different 
from the others, he was thinking of his own early life. 

For because he was very tall and very thin, and had 
curls and a high soprano voice, he aroused in other 
children a cruel desire to punish him for being unlike 
themselves. And, unfortunately, he could be made to 
suffer. The outer world he could not control, and he 
was easily frightened and hurt. When he went to 
school he made his mother promise that if the teacher 
ever hit him he needn’t stay there, and when the teacher 
hit him one day he ran home and didn’t go back. When 
he went to work in the factory he sang so beautifully 
that they all stopped work to listen to him, but then 
one of the workers said he was a little girl and they 
teased him so hard he had to quit. He says himself 
that he was extremely spoiled. One reason he was so 
spoiled was because he was unable to fight for himself 
among rough-and-tumble children, and his father and 
mother tried hard to make it up to him. 

Hans Christian’s father was a shoemaker. Like his 
vivid son, the father loved the sights and sounds of the 
country, the tall still beech woods of Denmark, its warm- 
colored meadows, its flowers and bending streams, the 
insects and the animals, the wind and the clouds. Also 
he liked the old country people who lived in an asylum 
in Odense, and among these cronies Hans Christian 
heard many stories that he did not forget. It was not 
from choice that the father was a town shoemaker. His 
own people had been farmers but a fire and an injury 
to his father had cost them their home, and he had been 
forced to learn a trade. 

In the end, to escape from his dull trade, the father 
joined Napoleon’s armies in the hope of quick promo¬ 
tion, but the war came to a sudden end, he returned 
home in broken health, and soon he died. This left 
Hans Christian and his mother all alone. After some 
time the mother married again and Hans Christian could 



Place at QdeD.se of 

Hans Christian Hnderscn_» isosi 





































































PREFACE 


i!o pretty much as he liked in his small Danish town, 
ihis joy was a little theater which he himself had put 
together. He had a number of dolls he dressed himself, 
and he made up his own plays. His mother thought 
they were wonderful plays. Because he could sing he 
hoped he could get on the stage and he made friends 
with a theatrical handbill man who gave him free hand¬ 
bills and even brought him to the real theater. From 
the handbills alone, and their long list of characters, he 
made up stories he told to himself. This was the be¬ 
ginning of his fairy tales. 


II 

But before Hans Christian Andersen came to write 
fairy tales he was to leave his provincial home and go 
to the capital to seek his fortune. 

One evening in Copenhagen just a hundred years ago 
there was a small dinner party to which Hans Christian 
came without being invited. It was at the house of 
Siboni, director of the Royal Conservatory, and his 
guests were men like himself—Weyse, the composer, 
Baggesen, the poet, and others interested in the arts. 

As they were seated at the table the housekeeper, 
very excited, came rushing in. She had just heard the 
most extraordinary story, she told the whole company— 
she had to tell the whole company because Siboni was 
an Italian and did not understand Danish very well. 
She spoke to the guests, fellow Danes, and the guests 
spoke to their host. 

Outside, she said, was a young man, really a boy, who 
wanted to sing for the master. He was remarkable! 
He had traveled by stage from his home town, Odense, 
to seek his fortune in Copenhagen, where he had no 
friends, and now he was down to his last dollar. He 
had told her his whole story, the poor chap. His father 
was dead. In Odense he had often taken small parts in 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


the theater and he’d sung in the choir; there in the 
theater he had learned Siboni’s name and he was sure 
that if only Siboni would try his voice everything would 
be right. He had meant to find work in Copenhagen, 
he said, and he had apprenticed himself to a carpenter, 
but the other apprentices had been so rough he couldn’t 
stay there. He knew all he needed was- a chance. Be¬ 
sides, he had written plays himself and he could act, 
he knew he could. 

The housekeeper wanted them- to see for themselves 
this remarkable child, whose name was Hans Christian 
Andersen. As by this time the guests were much im¬ 
pressed and as also they had come to the end of dinner 
she led them out. 

They gazed at the intruder as he stood simply and 
appealingly before them. He was no beauty. He was 
tall and exceedingly thin, and he was wearing his father’s 
best coat made over for him. His hair was curly, he 
had a prominent Adam’s apple, and' he had a high 
soprano voice. The company looked at one another as 
Siboni took him into the room where stood* the piano. 

But his voice was. lovely and sincere. Filled with 
excitement the boy sang, declaimed some scenes from 
Holberg, and then recited some poems. The poems were 
sad. With their sentiment and with the feeling of his 
own miserable plight the fourteen-year-old youth ended 
in actual tears. 

The* party broke into comforting applause. “I pre¬ 
dict that something’ll come of this boy,” said Baggesen. 
“Yes,” said Weyse, who had been a poor boy himself, 
“but we must really see what we can do to help him.” 
Siboni thought he could make a place for*him, and Hans 
Christian was told to call on Weyse the following day. 

As Hans Christian left, his heart bounding with hap¬ 
piness, the housekeeper patted him on the cheek. “I 
heard Professor Weyse say he had collected $50 for you, 
and he’ll be your friend, never fear!” 


PREFACE 


III 

And he was. Though no one could have been poorer 
than Hans Christian, or more friendless, or more 
strangely at sea in the world, this kind group of Danish 
literati saw promise in him of the sort they valued, and 
until he had completed his education and actually re¬ 
ceived a royal pension he never ceased to find a helping 
hand. 

The fact that he was given a home at Siboni’s did 
not seem so strange to Hans Christian Andersen. It 
was exactly the sort of miracle in which he believed. 
“The wonderful,” he said, “has always been truth to 
me.” But even though he found these men ready to 
help him his way was not easy. When his voice failed 
and he was kept at school by his benefactors because of 
his other talents, he was haunted by the fear of his 
own unworthiness. His imagination whipped him and he 
could not live without kindness, sympathy, praise. This 
sometimes made him seem quite silly. One good friend, 
Admiral WulfF, who translated Shakespeare into Danish, 
laughingly recollects that Hans Christian had come to 
him at his home saying, “You have translated Shake¬ 
speare; I admire him greatly. But I also have written 
a tragedy. Shall I read it to you?” Yet this very 
yearning for recognition and admiration was due, as it 
so often is due, to the fact the man did not quite believe 
in himself or in his own powers. 

IY 

To try his powers he attempted the highest kind of 
literature. He wrote tragedies and solemn poems and 
serious romances. He was determined to be important 
and he felt for a long time that his fairy tales were just 
“little things.” It was afterward, when he formed 
them in that “graphic, crooning, living, dancing, jump¬ 
ing style” of his, that he knew they were the natural 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

and complete expression of his real self. In these tales, 
so many of them taken from the gnarled and weathered 
folk tales of old Denmark, he was at last thoroughly at 
home. He was at ease in this world of slippered kings 
and pouting princesses, of witches on their broomsticks, 
of storms and terrors and icy seas and ocean caverns, 
of flowers that waltz and figures in porcelain that fall 
in love. With a quick and knowing eye he moved in this 
universe of birth and love and death, of joy and happi¬ 
ness, hunger and desire. He opened a casement on this 
world of his dancing imagination with a perfect under¬ 
standing of its quality—with gaiety, with tenderness, 
with sly and glinting humor. 

We know from Georg Brandes, the great Danish critic 
whose description of Andersen’s style I have just quoted, 
what a childlike figure Andersen always remained. 
Brandes is himself a man of immense moral courage 
and unsparing critical force. He could not help noting 
Andersen’s painful “wish to please and win the affec¬ 
tion of every single person he encountered on his path.” 
Yet Brandes gives a sympathetic picture of the famous 
man coming to be encouraged and admired. “He was 
most winning,” he says, “when he paid me a visit, as 
he occasionally did, in the ridiculously small room, very 
high up, which I then inhabited. He would come in, 
sit down on the narrow, leather-covered stool that was 
all I could offer him, glance askance at the window, 
however carefully it might be closed, move, in his dread 
of a draught, a little away from it, and take a manu¬ 
script out of his breast pocket.” 

Y 

Long-suffering as he was, and anxious to placate the 
world, Hans Christian prudently and serenely made his 
way to the top. His own life was his most wonderful 
fairy tale. One of Brandes’ stories tells of Andersen’s 
revenge on the dean who snubbed him at confirmation 


PREFACE 


because he was so poor. In later years this dean was 
stationed in the neighborhood of a Danish royal resi¬ 
dence. It so happened that Andersen was the guest of 
the King. Knowing that the King understood him, 
Andersen inquired one morning if he could ask a favor. 
He wished to borrow the King’s carriage with the full 
royal equipage. The King was amused to grant him 
the favor, and then, clothed in all his glory, Andersen 
amiably called on the dean and had the joy of knowing 
all during his visit that outside the dean could see wait¬ 
ing for him the coach and four horses and liveried pos¬ 
tilions of a King. 

It was, in the literal sense, poetic justice, especially 
in a state where the King is the head of the church. 
But the man who could do that could also tell us the 
most touching fact about his confirmation. He wore 
boots for the first time. “The boots creaked, and that 
inwardly pleased me, for thus the congregation would 
hear that they were new.” 

Here we have the touch that makes Hans Christian 
Andersen’s fairy tales so deep—the unexpected and de¬ 
licious fidelity to real experience. He believed, yes, that 
“there is a loving God who directs all things for the 
best.” But this belief did not close his eyes to the dif¬ 
ference between his beloved moral order and the human 
order to which an artist must be true. Sometimes Hans 
Christian is merely sweet and idyllic. His finest triumph 
is not that he is idyllic but that, believing in a loving God, 
he keeps the variety, the pattern, of adventurous and 
unpredictable life. He creates. And to his creations he 
gives a will of their own. 

Why do we like Hans Christian Andersen? Person¬ 
ally I like him because he walked right up to this stern 
old universe and stroked it so comprehendingly on the 
nose. Like most people who really have an imagination, 
whether it be a terrible imagination like Swift’s, or a 
sweet one like his own, he did not stand off from the 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


world to hang it with mere tinsel and Christmas candles. 
He didn’t play with the thickness and toughness of 
reality. Pie took reality as it is, which children nearly 
all respect, and then he peopled it with his own daring 
yet reasonable creations, which children generally ad¬ 
mire. Children live far too much amid the pressure and 
obstacle of fact to want a world of bland insipidity, a 
world from which pressure and obstacle have been re¬ 
moved. But they do rejoice, with high-hearted partisan¬ 
ship, in the conquest of dangers and terrors. They 
worship heroes and heroism because they feel the need 
of heroism and want to be heroes themselves. And it is 
because Hans Christian really lives like a child in the 
freshness of his senses and the quickness of his hopes 
and fears that he has been able, in these imperishable 
tales, to win the allegiance of the most realistic of all 
audiences. 


VI 

“He remembered so vividly in how many shapes it 
had come to him,” says Hans Christian of the fairy 
tale, “sometimes young and fair, like spring itself, a 
lovely little gir], with a wreath of woodruff in her hair 
and a branch of the beech in her hand, her eyes shone 
like deep forest lakes in bright sunshine; at other times 
it had come in the shape of a peddler who had opened 
his box of wares and let the silken ribbons wave with 
verses and inscriptions of old memories: but it was most 
delightful, after all, when it came as ‘old Granny,’ with 
silver-white hair and eyes so large and wise; she could 
tell so well about the oldest times, ever so long before 
princesses spun yarn on golden spindles, while dragons 
and serpents lay outside and guarded them.” 

Isn’t it true, that the dragons and serpents are 
always conquered in fairy tales, that generosity is al¬ 
ways rewarded, and sincerity always triumphant and 
goodness always the source of joy? Isn’t it true that 


PREFACE 


even Hans Christian avoids the ugly riddle of evil, and 
believes what he wants to believe? Let him answer 
himself: 

‘‘By the big brew!” said the woman, “haven’t you had 
enough of fairy tales? I thought most people had had 
enough of them. There are other things to be looked 
after, and other things to mind. Even children have 
got beyond them. Give the little boys a cigar and the 
little girls a new crinoline—they like that much better. 
Listen to fairy tales 1 No, indeed, there are other things 
to be looked after, much more important things to be 
done.” 

VII 

But Hans Christian Andersen is. right. Fairy tales 
and poetry—“two yards of the same piece of stuff”— 
are more than knowledge and- poetry-in-bottles. They 
are our dream and intuition, the*hem of our garment of 
immortality. 

So, as he says, “fairy tales never die.” Only it took 
his genius, a genius at once exiled and* familiar, easy 
and ethereal, to open again the legends and traditions 
of humanity. These are sealed volumes, and to. have 
loosened their pages to children everywhere in the world 
is Andersen’s greatest fairy tale. 

Francis Hackett. 





-) 





r 











JftoUgfr edL 



‘jHfr dearest home , wbere mv life 
9olr tlra £low and wy jbarp tfos 

sovnd ( ^ . Here, in te>7&, died 


(Tic 













































































The Tindertrox 


SOLDIER was marching along the high¬ 
road ; one, two! one, two! He had his 
knapsack on his back and his sabre by 
his side, for he had been in the war and 
now he was going home. Then he met 
an old witch on the highroad; she was horrid, her lower 
lip hung right down on her breast. She said, “Good 
evening, soldier! What a nice sabre you have and what 
a big knapsack; you are a regular soldier. Now you’re 
going to get all the money you want!” 

“Thank you, old witch,” said the soldier. 

“Do you see that big tree?” said the witch, and 
pointed to a tree next to them. “It’s all hollow inside. 
You’re to climb up to the top, and then you’ll see a hole, 
and you can let yourself through that and far down 
into the tree. I’ll tie a rope around you so that I can 
pull you up again when you call me.” 

“And what am I going to do down in the tree?” asked 
the soldier. 

“Get money,” said the witch, “you see, when you get 
down to the bottom of the tree you’ll be in a big hall; 
it’s very bright because there are more than a hundred 
lamps burning in it. Then you’ll see three doors with 
the keys in, so you can open them. If you go into the 
first room, you’ll see a big chest in the middle of the 
floor, and there is a dog sitting on top of it; his eyes 

l 










2 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


are as big as saucers, but don’t you mind that! I’ll 
give you my blue-checked apron, you can spread that 
out on the floor; then walk right up to the dog, take 
him, and put him on my apron, open the chest and take 
all the money, you want. It’s copper money, but if 
you’d rather have silver, then you must go into the next 
room. In there is a dog with eyes as big- as mill wheels, 
but don’t you mind that, put him on my apron and 
help yourself to the money! But if you want gold you 
can have that too, and just as much as you can carry, 
if you go into the third room. But the dog on the 
money chest in there has two eyes and each of them as 
big as the Round Tower in Copenhagen. That’s a regu¬ 
lar dog, I tell you! But don’t you mind that, just put 
him on my apron, then he won’t hurt you, and take all 
the gold you want out of the chest!” 

“That’s not so bad!” said the soldier. “But what 
am I going to have to give you, old witch, because I 
suppose you’ll want something too!” 

“No,” said the witch, “I don’t want a single penny! 
All you have to bring me is an old tinderbox that my 
grandmother forgot when she was down there last.” 

“Well!. Tie the rope around me,” said the soldier. 

“Here it is,” said the witch, “and here is my blue- 
checked apron.” 

Then the soldier climbed up in the tree, let himself 
drop through the hole, and there he was, as the witch 
had said, down in the big hall where the many hundred 
lamps were burning. 

Now he opened the first door. Ugh! There sat the 
dog with eyes as big as saucers and glared at him. 

“You’re a nice fellow!” said the soldier, put him on 
the witch’s apron and took all the copper money he 
could carry in his pockets. Then he shut the chest, put 
the dog up on it again, and went into the second room. 
Ugh! There sat the dog with eyes as large as mill 
wheels! 

































































































THE TINDERBOX 


3 


“You shouldn’t look at me as much as that,” said 
the soldier, “you might get a pain in the eye!” And 
then he put the dog on the witch’s apron, but when he 
saw the heaps of the silver money in the chest, he threw 
away all the copper money he had; -and. filled his pockets 
and his knapsack with nothing but. silver. Now he went 
into the third room. Oh, this was horrid! The dog in 
there really had two eyes as large as the Round Tower 
and they turned in his head just like wheels! 

“Good evening!” said the soldier and touched his cap, 
because he had never seen a dog like that before; but 
when he had looked at him a little while he thought, 
“That’s enough now,” and lifted him down on the floor. 
Then he opened the chest, andunercy on us what a lot of 
gold! With that he could buy all of Copenhagen and 
the cake women’s sugar pigs, and all the tin soldiers, 
whips, and rocking horses in the world! That was cer¬ 
tainly money! And now the soldier threw away all the 
silver coins he had filled his pockets and his knapsack 
with, and put in gold instead. He filled pockets, knap¬ 
sack, cap, and boots until he could* hardly walk. Now 
he had mone}^! He put the dog up on the chest, 
slammed the door, and shouted up through the tree: 

“Pull me up, now, old witch!” 

“Have you got the tinderbox?” asked the witch. 

“That’s right,” said the soldier, “I forgot all about 
that,” and he went back and took it. The witch pulled 
him up, and there he was on the highroad again with 
pockets, boots, knapsack, and cap full of money. 

“And what do you want that tinderbox for?” asked 
the soldier. 

“That’s none of your business,” said the witch, 
“you’ve got money now, just give me the tinderbox!” 

“Hoity-toity,” said the soldier, “you tell me right 
away what you want it for, or I’ll draw my sabre and 
chop off your head!” 

“No,” said the witch. 


4 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


Then the soldier chopped off her head. There she lay ! 
He tied all his money up in her apron, took it on his 
back like a bundle, put the tinderbox in his pocket, and 
walked straight to the town. 

It was a nice town, and he stopped at the nicest inn 
and asked for the very best rooms and his favorite dishes, 
because he was rich now with all that money. The ser¬ 
vant who polished his boots did think that they were 
funny old boots for such a rich gentleman, but he hadn’t 
bought his new ones yet. Next day he got boots fit to 
be seen in, and lovely new clothes. The soldier was a 
fine gentleman now, and the people told him about all 
the grand things in their town, and about their king 
and how charming a princess his daughter was. 

“Where can I see her?” asked the soldier. 

“You can’t see her at all!” everybody said. “She 
lives in a big copper castle with ever so many walls and 
towers around it! Only the king is allowed to go in and 
out, because it has been foretold that she is going to 
marry just a common soldier, and the king doesn’t like 
that!” 

“I’d certainly like to see her,” thought the soldier, 
but that was the one thing he couldn’t do. 

Now he had a very good time; he went to the theater, 
he drove in the park, and he gave ever so much money 
to the poor, and that was kind of him. He knew well 
enough from former days how bad it is not to have one 
penny. He was rich now, and had nice clothes, and he 
had many friends who told him that he was all right, a 
real gentleman, and the soldier liked that. But since he 
spent money every day and didn’t get any back at all, 
he had only two cents left at last and had to move away 
from the beautiful rooms where *he had been living and 
up to a tiny little garret* right under the roof. There he 
had to brush his own hoots and mend them with a 
darning needle, and none of his friends came to see him, 
because there were so many stairs to climb. 


THE TINDERBOX 


5 


One evening it was getting quite dark and he couldn’t 
even buy a candle, but then he remembered that there 
was a little piece left in the tinderbox which he had 
taken from the hollow tree that the witch had helped 
him down in. He got out the tinderbox and the piece 
of candle, but just as he struck fire and the sparks flew 
from the flint, the door sprang open, and the dog w T ith 
eyes as big as saucers whom he had seen down under 
the tree stood before him and said, “What does my 
master command?” 

“What’s that!” said the soldier, “this is a funny tin¬ 
derbox. I wonder if I can get what I want? Get me 
some money,” he said to the dog and pop, he was gone! 
Pop, he was back again, and with a big bag full of 
money in his mouth. 

Now the soldier knew what a lovely tinderbox it was. 
If he struck it once, the dog came that sat on the chest 
with the copper money; if he struck it twice the one 
with the silver money came, and if he struck it three 
times the one with the gold came. And so the soldier 
moved down into the beautiful rooms again, put on his 
good clothes, and then all his friends knew him right 
away, and liked him ever so much. 

Once he happened to think, “Isn’t it a queer thing 
that nobody can get to see that princess? They all say 
she is so lovely, but what good does that do when she 
always has to sit in the big copper castle with the many 
towers. I wonder if I couldn’t possibly get to see her? 
Where’s my tinderbox!” And then he struck fire, and 
pop came the dog with eyes as big as saucers. 

“I know that it’s in the middle of the night,” said 
the soldier, “but I would so very much like to see the 
princess for just one little moment!” 

The dog was out of the door right away, and before 
the soldier had time to think he saw him again with the 
princess. She was asleep on the back of the dog, and 
she was so lovely that anybody could see she was a real 


6 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


princess. The soldier couldn’t help it, he had to kiss her, 
because he was a regular soldier. Then the dog ran 
back with the princess, but when it was morning and the 
king and queen were pouring their tea, the princess said 
that she had had such a strange dream that night about 
a dog and a soldier. She had been riding on the dog 
and the soldier had kissed her. 

“That’s a pretty story, I must say!” said the queen. 

The next night one of the old court ladies had to 
watch at the bed of the princess to see if it were a real 
dream, or what it might be. The soldier was so terribly 
anxious to see the beautiful princess again that the dog 
came at night and took her and ran as fast as he could, 
but the old court lady put water boots on and ran just 
as fast after him. When she saw them disappear into a 
large house, she thought, “Now I know where they are,” 
and she wrote a big cross on the door with a piece of 
chalk. Then she went home and went to bed, and the 
dog came back again with the princess, but when he 
saw that a cross had been written on the door, he took 
a piece of chalk too and put crosses on all the doors in 
town, and that was a clever trick, because now of course 
the lady wouldn’t be able to find the right door when 
they all had crosses on. 

In the early morning the king and queen, the old 
court lady and all the officers came to see where it was 
that the princess had been. 

“There it is!” said the king when he saw the first 
door with a cross on. 

“No, my dear, there it is!” said the queen when she 
saw another door with a cross on. 

“But there is one, and there is one!” they all said; 
wherever they looked there were crosses on the doors, 
and so they could see of course that searching wasn’t 
of much use. 

But the queen happened to be a very clever woman 
who could do more things than ride in a coach. She 


THE TINDERBOX 


7 


took her big gold scissors, cut up a big piece of silk and 
then she sewed a pretty little bag and she filled that 
with tiny buckwheat grains and tied it to the back of 
the princess. Then she cut a little hole in the bag so 
that the grains could drizzle out wherever the princess 
went. 

At night the dog came again, took the princess on his 
back, and ran with her to the soldier, who was so very 
fond of her, and would so have liked to have been a 
prince so that he could have married her. The dog 
didn’t notice at all how the grains drizzled out right 
from the castle to the soldier’s window where he ran 
up the wall with the princess. And in the morning 
the king and queen could see well enough where their 
daughter had been, and so they took the soldier and put 
him in jail. 

There he was. Oh, how dark and dreary it was there, 
and then they said to him “You’ll be hanged to-morrow.” 
That wasn’t a pleasant thing to hear, and he had for¬ 
gotten his tinderbox home at the inn. Through the iron 
bars in his little window, he could see the next morning 
how people were hurrying out of the town to see him 
hanged. He could hear the drums and see the soldiers 
marching along. Everybody was running; there was a 
shoemaker’s apprentice too in his apron-and slippers, he 
galloped so fast that one of his slippers flew off and hit 
the wall behind which the soldier sat and peered out 
through the bars. 

“Hey, you shoemaker boy! You don’t have to be in 
such a hurry,” the soldier said to him, “they can’t do 
anything until I come! Don’t you want to run over to 
w r here I used to live and get me my tinderbox, then I’ll 
give you ten cents, but you’ll have to skip!” The shoe¬ 
maker’s apprentice wanted the ten cents and rushed 
away for the tinderbox, gave it to the soldier, and— 
well, now we’ll hear what happened. 

A big gallows had been raised outside the town, and 


8 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


around it stood the soldiers and many hundreds of 
thousands of people. The king and queen sat on a 
beautiful throne right across from the judge and the 
whole council. The soldier was already standing on the 
ladder, but when they were going to put the rope around 
his neck he said that every sinner w T as allowed an innocent 
wish before he got his punishment, and he wanted so 
much to smoke a pipe of tobacco, it would be for the 
last time in this world. 

The king didn’t w r ant to say no to this, and so the 
soldier took his tinderbox and struck fire, one, two, 
three! and there stood all the dogs, the one with eyes 
as big as saucers, the one with eyes like mill wheels, and 
the one who had eyes as big as the Round Tower. 

“Help me now r , so that I won’t be hanged!” said the 
soldier, and then the dogs jumped at the judges and all 
the council, took some by the legs and some by the nose 
and threw them many fathoms up in the air so that they 
fell down and broke into pieces. 

“I don’t want to!” said the king, but the biggest 
dog took both him and the queen and threw them after 
all the others, then the soldiers were frightened and the 
people shouted: “Little soldier, you shall be our king, 
and marry the lovely princess!” 

Then they put the soldier in the royal coach, and all 
the three dogs danced in front of it and shouted hurrah! 
and the boys whistled through their fingers and the sol¬ 
diers presented arms. The princess got out of the 
copper castle and was queen, and she liked that very 
much! The wedding lasted eight days and the dogs sat 
at the table and opened their eyes wide. 



.Little Claus 
and JBig Clauds 



N a town there were two men and they had 
the same name—each was called Claus; 
but one had four horses, and the other only 
a single horse. To tell them from each 
other, people called him who had four 
horses Big Claus, and the one who had only a single 
horse Little Claus. Now we shall hear what happened 
to them, for this is a true story. 

The whole week through, Little Claus had to plough 
for Big Claus, and to lend him his one horse; then Big 
Claus helped him out with all his four, but only once a 
week, and that was on Sunday. Hurrah! how Little 
Claus cracked his whip over all five horses, for they were 
as good as his own on that one day. The sun shone gaily, 
and all the bells in the steeples were ringing; the people 
were dressed in their best, and were going to church, 


9 




10 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


with their hymn books under their arms, to hear the 
minister preach, and they saw Little Claus ploughing 
with five horses; and he was so merry that he cracked 
his whip again and cried, “Get up, all my horses!” 

“You mustn’t say that,” said Big Claus, “for only 
one horse is yours.” 

But when any one passed by again on his way to 
church Little Claus forgot that he was not to say this, 
and he cried, “Get up, all my horses!” 

“Now, I must really ask you to stop that,” cried Big 
Claus, “for if you say it again, I shall hit your horse 
on the head, so that it will fall down dead, and then it 
will be all over with it.” 

“I will certainly not say it any more,” said Little 
Claus. 

But when people came by soon afterw T ard, and nodded 
“good day” to him, he was so pleased, and thought it 
looked very smart, after all, that he had five horses to 
plough his field; and so he cracked his whip again, and 
cried, “Get up, all my horses!” 

“I’ll ‘get up’ your horses!” said Big Claus. And he 
took a mallet and hit the only horse of Little Claus on 
the head, so that it fell down, and was quite dead. 

“Oh, now I haven’t any horse at all!” said Little 
Claus, and began to cry. 

Then he flayed the horse, and let the hide dry well in 
the wind, and put it in a sack and hung it over his 
shoulder, and went to the town to sell it. 

He had a very long way to go, and he had to go 
through a big, dark wood, and the weather became dread¬ 
fully bad. He lost his way entirely and before he found 
it again it was evening, and it was too far to get home 
again or even to the town before nightfall. 

Near the road stood a large farmhouse. The shut¬ 
ters were closed outside the windows, but the light could 
still be seen shining out over them. 




































LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS 


11 



“Perhaps they will let me stay here to-night,” thought 
Little Claus ; and he went and knocked. 

The farmer’s wife opened the door; but when she 
heard what he wanted she told him to go away, saying 
that her husband was not at home, and she would not 
receive strangers. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to stay outside then,” said 
Little Claus. And the farmer’s wife shut the door in his 
face. 

Close by stood a large haystack, and between this and 
the farmhouse was a little outhouse thatched with straw. 

“I can lie up there,” said Little Claus, when he looked 
up at the roof; “that’s a fine bed. I suppose the stork 
won’t fly down and bite my legs.” For a stork was 
standing on the roof, where he had his nest. 

Now Little Claus climbed up to the roof of the shed, 
where he lay and turned around to settle himself com¬ 
fortably. The wooden shutters didn’t cover the windows 
at the top, and he could look straight into the room. 
There was a big table, with the cloth laid, and wine and 
roast meat and a lovely fish on it. The farmer’s wife 
and the parish clerk were sitting at the table, and nobody 





ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


io 

1 +U 



else. She was filling his glass, and he was digging his 
fork into the fish, for that was what he liked best. 

“If I could only get some too!” thought Little Claus, 
and stuck his head close to the window. Heavens, 
what a wonderful cake he saw standing there! It was a 
real party! 

Now he heard some one riding along the highroad. It 
was the woman’s husband, who was coming home. He 
was a very nice man but he had something queer the 
matter with him, he couldn’t bear to see a parish clerk. 















LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS 


13 


If a parish clerk came before his eyes he went quite 
wild. And the parish clerk had gone to the wife to wish 
her good day, because he knew that her husband was 
not at home; and the good woman gave him her most 
wonderful things to eat. But when they heard the man 
coming they were frightened, and the woman begged the 
clerk to creep into a big empty chest which stood in 
the corner; and he did so, for he knew the poor man 
could not bear the sight of a clerk. The woman quickly 
hid all the nice food and wine in her baking oven; for 
if the husband had seen that, he would have been cer¬ 
tain to ask what it meant. 

“Oh, dear!” sighed Little Claus, up on his shed, when 
he saw all the good things put away. 

“Is there any one up there?” asked the farmer; and 
he looked up at Little Claus. “Why are you lying 
there? Better come with me into the room.” 

And Little Claus told him how he had lost his way, 
and asked leave to stay there for the night. 

“Yes, certainly,” said the farmer, “but first we must 
have something to eat.” 

The woman received them both in a very friendly 
way, spread a cloth on a long table, and gave them a 
big dish of porridge. The farmer was hungry, and 
ate with a good appetite; but Little Claus couldn’t help 
thinking of the nice roast meat, fish, and cake, which he 
knew w T ere in the oven. Under the table, at his feet, he 
had laid the sack with the horse’s hide in it; for we know 
that he had come away to sell it in the town. He didn’t 
like the taste of the porridge at all, so he trod on the 
sack, and the dry skin inside gave a loud squeak. 

“Hush,” said Little Claus to his sack; but at the same 
time he trod on it again, so that it squeaked much louder 
than before. 

“Why, what have you in your sack?” asked the 
farmer. 

“Oh, that’s a wizard,” answered Little Claus. “He 


14 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


says we are not to eat porridge, for he has bewitched 
the oven full of roast meat, fish, and cake.” 

“What’s that you say!” cried the farmer; and he 
opened the oven in a hurry, and found all the nice things 
to eat which his wife had hidden there, but which, he 
now thought, the wizard in the bag had put there. The 
woman didn’t dare to say anything, but put the things 
on the table at once; and so they both ate of the meat, 
the fish, and the cake. Now Little Claus stepped on 
his sack again, and made the hide squeak. 

“What does he say now?” said the farmer. 

“He says,” replied Claus, “that he has put three bot¬ 
tles of wine there for us; they are standing in the oven, 
too.” 

Now the woman had to bring out the wine which she 
had hidden, and the farmer drank it and it cheered him 
up very much. There wasn’t anything he’d rather have 
than a wizard such as Little Claus had there in the sack. 

“Can he raise the devil, too?” asked the farmer. “I’ve 
a good mind to see him now that I feel so cheerful.” 

“Oh, yes,” said Little Claus, “my wizard can do any¬ 
thing that I ask of him—can’t you?” he added, and 
trod on the hide, so that it squeaked. “He says, ‘Yes.* 
But the devil is very ugly to look at; we had better not 
see him.” 

“Oh, I’m not afraid at all. I wonder what he’ll look 
like?” 

“Why, he’ll look exactly like a parish clerk.” 

Ha!” said the farmer, “that is ugly! You know, 
I can’t bear the sight of a clerk. But it doesn’t matter 
now; if I know it’s the devil I’ll be able to stand it. 
Now I feel brave, but he mustn’t come too near me.” 

“Now I will ask my wizard,” said Little Claus; and 
he stepped on the sack and held his ear down. 

“What does he say?” 

“He says you can go and open the chest that stands 
in the corner, and you will see the devil tucked away 


LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS 15 

in it; but you must hold the lid so that he doesn’t slip 
out.” 

Will you help me to hold him?” asked the farmer. 
And he went to the chest where the wife had hidden the 
real clerk, who sat in there and was so afraid. The 
farmer opened the lid a little way and peeped in under¬ 
neath it. 

“Ugh!” he cried, and sprang back. “Yes, now I’ve 
seen him, and he looked just like our clerk. Oh, that 
was terrible!” 

They had to drink on that, and so they sat and drank 
until late into the night. 

“You must sell me that wizard,” said the farmer. 
“Ask as much as you like for him; I’ll give you a whole 
bushel of money right away.” 

“No, I can’t do that,” said Little Claus; “only think 
how much use I can make of this wizard.” 

“Oh, I should so much like to have him!” said the 
farmer; and he went on begging. 

“Well,” said Little Claus, at last, “as you have been 
so kind as to give me shelter for the night, I’ll let it go 
at that. You can have the wizard for a bushel of 
money; but I must have the bushel heaped up.” 

“You’ll get that,” said the farmer. “But you must 
take that chest away with you. I won’t keep it in my 
house an hour. You never can tell, he may be sitting 
there yet.” 

Little Claus gave the farmer his sack with the dry hide 
in it, and got a whole bushel of money, and that heaped 
up. The farmer also gave him a big wheelbarrow to 
carry off his money and chest in. 

“Good-by!” said Little Claus; and he went off with 
his money and the big chest, in which the parish clerk 
was still sitting. 

On the other side of the wood was a large, deep river. 
The water rushed along so rapidly that one could hardly 
swim against the stream. A fine new bridge had been 


16 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


built over it. Little Claus stopped at the middle of the 
bridge, and said quite loud, so that the clerk in the chest 
could hear it: 

“Why, what do I want with this crazy chest? It’s 
as heavy as if there were stones in it. I shall only get 
tired if I drag it any farther, so I’ll throw it in the 
river; if it floats home to me, all right; and if it doesn’t, 
I don’t care very much.” 

And he took the chest by one handle, and lifted it up 
a little, as if he were going to throw it in the river. 

“No! Don’t!” screamed the clerk from inside the 
chest, “let me out first!” 

“Ugh!” said Little Claus, and made believe he was 
frightened, “he’s in there still! I must get him drowned 
in the river right away.” 

“Oh, no, no!” screamed the clerk. “I’ll give you a 
whole bushel full of money if you’ll let me go.” 

“Why, that’s another thing!” said Little Claus; and 
he opened the chest. 

The clerk crawled quickly out, pushed the empty chest 
into the water, and went to his house, where Little Claus 
got a whole bushel full of money. He had already got 
one from the farmer, and so now he had his whole wheel¬ 
barrow loaded with money. 

“Well, 1 got rather a good price for that horse,” he 
said to himself when he had come home to his own room, 
and was emptying all the money into a heap in the mid¬ 
dle of the floor. “It will worry Big Claus when he 
hears how rich I’ve got with my one horse; but I won’t 
tell him about it outright.” 

So he sent a boy to Big Claus to borrow a bushel 
measure. 

“What does he want with that?” thought Big Claus, 
and he smeared some tar underneath the measure, so that 
something of whatever was measured should stick to it. 
And it did; for when he got the measure back, there 
were three new silver dimes sticking* to it. 

O 


LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS 17 

“What’s this 7 ’ cried Big Claus; and he ran off at once 
to Little Claus. “Where did you get all that money 
from?” 

“Oh, that’s for the hide of my horse. I sold it last 
night.” 

“That was certainly a good price,” said Big Claus. 
And he ran home, took an axe, and* killed all his four 
horses; then he flayed them, and carried their hides to 
the town. 

“Hides! hides! who’ll buy hides ?” he cried through 
the streets. 

All the shoemakers and tanners came running, and 
asked how much he wanted for them. 

“A bushel of money for each!” said Big Claus. 

“Are you crazy?” they said. “Do you think we have 
money by the bushel?” 

“Hides! hides!” he cried again; and to all who asked 
him what the hides would cost he answered, “A bushel 
of money.” 

“He wants to make fools of us,” they all said, and 
the shoemakers took their straps, and the tanners their 
aprons, and they began to beat Big Claus. 

“Hides! hides!” they jeered after him. “Yes, we’ll 
tan your hide for you till you sweat blood. Out of the 
town with him!” And Big Claus hurried as fast as he 
could, for he had never yet been thrashed as he was 
thrashed now. 

“Well,” said he when he got home, “Little Claus shall 
pay for this. I’ll kill him for that.” 

Now, at Little Claus’s house the old grandmother had 
died. She had been very mean and unkind to him, but 
still he was very sorry, and took the dead woman and 
laid her in his warm bed, to see if she wouldn’t come 
to life again. She was going to lie there all through 
the night, and ‘he himself would sit in the corner and 
sleep on a chair; he had often done that before. While 
he was sitting there at night the door opened, and Big 


18 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


Claus came in with his axe. He knew where Little 
Claus’s bed stood, went straight up to it, and hit the old 
grandmother on the head, thinking she was Little Claus. 

“Take that,” he said, “you won’t fool me again.” And 
then he went home. 

“That’s a bad, wicked fellow, that man,” said Little 
Claus. “He wanted to kill me. It was a good thing 
for the old woman that she was dead already, or he 
would have killed her.” 

And he dressed his grandmother in her Sunday clothes, 
borrowed a horse of his neighbor, harnessed it to a car¬ 
riage, and put the old grandmother on the back seat, so 
that she couldn’t fall out when he drove fast. And 
so they rolled on through the wood. When the sun rose 
they were in front of an inn; there Little Claus pulled 
up, and went in to get something to eat. 

The host had very, very much money; he was also a 
very good man, but he got angry as easily as if he had 
pepper and tobacco in him. 

“Good morning,” said he to Little Claus. “You’ve 
put on your Sunday clothes early to-day.” 

“Yes,” answered Little Claus; “I’m going to town 
with my old grandmother; she’s sitting there in the car¬ 
riage outside. I can’t bring her into the room—will you 
give her a glass of mead? But you must speak rather 
loud, for she doesn’t hear well.” 

“Yes, I’ll do that,” said the host. And he poured 
out a big glass of mead, and went out with it to the 
dead grandmother, who had been placed upright in the 
carriage. 

“Here’s a- glass of mead from your son,” said the 
host. But the dead woman didn’t say a word, of course, 
but sat quite still. “Can’t you hear?” shouted the host, 
as. loud as he could, “here is a glass of mead from your 
son!” 

Once more he called out the same thing, and once 
again, but as she still didn’t stir, he got angry and 


LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS 19 

threw the glass in her face, so that the mead ran down 
over her nose, and she tumbled backwards into the car, 
for she had only been set upright, and not bound fast. 

‘‘Hello!” shouted Little Claus, jumping out from the 
door, and seizing the host by the throat, “you’ve killed 
my grandmother! Just look now, there’s a big hole in 
her forehead.” 

“Oh, it was an accident!” cried the host, wringing 
his hands. “It was all because of my hot temper. Dear 
Little Claus, I’ll give you a bushel of money, and have 
your grandmother buried as if she were my own; only 
keep quiet, or I shall have my head cut off, and that 
would be so horrid!” 

So Little Claus got a whole bushel of money, and 
the host buried the old grandmother as if she had been 
his own. And when Little Claus came home again with 
all this money, he at once sent his boy to Big Claus 
to ask to borrow a bushel measure. 

“What’s that?” said Big Claus. “Didn’t I kill him? 
I must go myself and see to this.” And so he went over 
himself with the bushel to Little Claus. 

“Why, where did you get all that money from?” he 
asked; and he opened his eyes wide when he saw all that 
had been piled up. 

“You killed my grandmother, and not me,” answered 
Little Claus, “and I’ve sold her now, and got a whole 
bushel of money for her.” 

“That was certainly good money,” said Big Claus; 
and he hastened home, took an axe, and killed his own 
grandmother at once. Then he put her on a carriage, 
and drove off to the town with her, to where the drug¬ 
gist lived, and asked him if he would buy a dead person. 

“Who is it, and where did you get him from?” asked 
the druggist. 

“It’s my grandmother,” answered Big Claus. “I’ve 
killed her to get a bushel of money for her.” 

“Heaven save us!” cried the druggist, “you’re raving! 


20 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


Don’t say such things, or you may lose your head.” And 
then he put it right up to him what a terrible thing he 
had done, and what a bad man he was, and that he 
ought to be punished. And Big Claus was so fright¬ 
ened that he jumped out of the drugstore straight into 
his carriage, whipped the horses, and rushed home. But 
the druggist and all the people thought he was crazy, 
and so they let him drive wherever he would. 

“I’ll make you pay for that!” said Big Claus, when 
he was back on the highroad, “yes, I’ll pay you back, 
Little Claus!” And when he got home he took the big¬ 
gest sack he could find, and went over to Little Claus 
and said, “Now*, you’ve fooled me again! First I killed 
my horses, and then my old grandmother! That’s all 
your fault; but you’ll never fool me any more.” And he 
seized Little Claus round the body, and thrust him into 
the sack, and took him on his back, and shouted to r him, 
“Now I’m going out to drown you.” 

He had to go a long way before he came to the river, 
and Little Claus wasn’t any too light. The road led 
him by a church, the organ was playing, and the people 
were singing beautifully! Then Big Claus put down 
his sack, with Little Claus in it, close to the church door, 
and thought it might not be such a bad idea to go in 
and listen to a hymn before he w r ent on; for Little Claus 
could not get out, and all the people were in church; 
and so he went in. 

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” sighed Little Claus in the 
sack. And he turned and tw’isted, but he couldn’t possi¬ 
bly loosen the cord. Then an old drover came by with 
snow-white hair, and a big stick in his hand; he was 
driving a whole herd of cows and bulls before him, and 
they stumbled against the sack in which Little Claus was 
sitting, so that it was upset. 

“Oh, dear!” sighed Little Claus, “I’m so young yet, 
and must already go to heaven!” 


LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS 21 

“And I, poor fellow,” said the drover, “am so old 
and can’t get there yet!” 

“Open the sack,” cried Little Claus, “creep into it 
instead of me, and you will get to heaven right away.” 

“I’d love to do that,” said the drover, and he untied 
the sack for Little Claus who jumped out at once, 

“But will you look after the cattle?” said the old 
man; and he crawled into the sack, which Little Claus 
tied up, and went his way with all the cows and bulls. 

Soon afterw r ard Big Claus, came out of the church. He 
took the sack on his shoulders again, although it seemed 
to him as if the sack had become lighter; for the old 
drover w r as only half as heavy as Little Claus. 

“How light he is to carry now! That must be be¬ 
cause I heard a hymn.” 

So he went to the river, which was deep and broad, 
threw the sack with the old drover in it into the water, 
and called after him, because, you see, he thought it w T as 
Little Claus, “Take that! You’re not going to fool me 
any more!” 

Then he went home; but when he came to a place 
where there was a crossroad, he met Little Claus driving 
all his cattle. 

“What’s this?” cried Big Claus. “Didn’t I drown 
you?” 

“Yes,” said Little Claus, “sure enough, you threw me 
into the river less than half an hour ago.” 

“But where did you get all that fine cattle from i? ’ 
asked Big Claus. 

“They are sea cattle,” said Little Claus. “I’ll tell 
you the whole story,—and thank you, too, for drowning 
me, for now r I’m on top. I am really rich! How fright¬ 
ened I was when I lay in the sack, and the wind whistled 
about my ears when you threw me down froin the bridge 
into the cold w r ater! I sank to the bottom right away; 
but I didn’t hurt myself, for the finest soft grass grows 
down there. I fell on that; and the sack was opened at 


22 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


once, and the loveliest maiden, with snow-white garments 
and a green wreath on her wet hair, took me by the hand, 
and said, ‘Is that you, Little Claus? Here are some 
cattle for you to begin with. A mile farther along the 
road there is a whole herd more, which I will give to 
you.’ And now I saw that the river formed a great 
highway for the people of the sea. Down in its bed 
they walked and drove right from the sea, and straight 
into the land to where the river ends. The prettiest 
flowers grew there and the freshest grass, and the fishes 
swimming in the water darted past my head just as the 
birds do here in the air. What nice people there were, 
and what fine cattle grazing by hedges and in ditches!” 

“But why did you come back up to us right away?” 
asked Big Claus. “I wouldn’t have done that if it’s so 
nice down there.” 

“Why,” said Little Claus, “that’s exactly where I 
was wise. You’ve just heard me tell you that the sea 
girl said, ‘A mile farther along the road’—and by the 
road she meant the river, for she can’t go anywhere 
else—there is still a whole herd of cattle waiting for me. 
But I know what turns the stream takes—sometimes this 
way, sometimes that; that makes a long way to go 
round: no, I can cut it short by coming here to the 
land, and driving across the fields toward the river 
again. In this way I save myself almost half a mile, and 
get all the quicker to my sea cattle!” 

“Oh, you are a lucky man!” said Big Claus. “Do 
you think I’d get some sea cattle, too, if I went down 
to the bottom of the river?” 

“Yes, of course you would!” said Little Claus. “But 
I can’t carry you in the sack as far as the river; you 
are too heavy for me! But if you will walk there your¬ 
self and crawl into the sack, I shall throw you in with 
the greatest pleasure.” 

“Thanks!” said Big Claus, “but if I don’t get any sea 


LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS 


23 


cattle when I am down there, I’ll lick you, you can 
bet!” 

“Oh, no, don’t be so mean!” 

And so they went together to the river. When the 
cattle, which were thirsty, saw the water, they ran as 
fast as they could to get a drink. 

“Look how they hurry!” cried Little Claus. “They 
are longing to get back to the bottom.” 

“Yes, but help me first!” said Big Claus, “or you’ll 
get a licking.” 

And so he crawled into the large sack, which had been 
laid across the back of one of the bulls. 

“Put a stone in, or I’m afraid I shan’t sink,” said Big 
Claus. 

“That will be all right,” said Little Claus, but still 
he put a big stone in the sack, tied the rope tightly, and 
pushed. Plump! There lay Big Claus in the river, and 
sank at once to the bottom. 

“I’m afraid he won’t find the cattle!” said Little 
Claus; and then he drove homeward with what he had. 






<3^ 


The JPr incest 

op the 


& 


ea 



HERE was once a prince who wanted to 
marry a princess; but she had to be a real 
princess. So he traveled all through the 
whole world to find a real one, but every¬ 
where there was something the matter. 


There were plenty of princesses, but whether they were 
real princesses he couldn’t quite make out: there was 
always something that didn’t seem real enough. So he 
came home again, and was very sorry; for he wanted so 
much to have a real princess. 

One evening a terrible storm came on. It lightened 
and thundered, the rain poured down; it was perfectly 
dreadful! Then there was a knocking at the town gate, 
and the old king went out to open it. 

It was a princess who stood outside. But, heavens, 
how the rain and the bad weather had made her look! 
The water ran down from her hair and her clothes; 
it ran in at the points of her shoes, and out at the heels; 
and then she said that she was a real princess. 

24 

























































































































































issivtfAiKAV/A'aH'S: 

v^*Hu\^-v 


:::i-.t:. ; :Yv.vi.-.-:;.-. 




OO 





















































































































THE PRINCESS ON THE PEA 


25 


“Well, we’ll soon find that out,” thought the old 
queen. But she said nothing, only went into the bed¬ 
room, took all the bedclothes off, and put a pea on the 
bottom of the bedstead; then she took twenty mattresses 
and laid them on the pea, and then again twenty eider¬ 
down beds on the mattresses. On this the princess had 
to lie all night. In the morning they asked her how 
she had slept. 

“O, horribly!” said the princess. “I hardly closed 
my eyes all night long. Goodness knows what was in my 
bed. I lay on something hard, so that I am black and 
blue all over. It is perfectly terrible!” 

Now they could see that she was a real princess, be¬ 
cause she had felt the pea through the twenty mattresses 
and the twenty eider-down beds. Nobody but a real 
princess could be so tender. 

So the prince married her, because now he knew that 
he had a real princess; and the pea was put in the art 
museum, and it is there now, unless somebody has 
taken it. 

Well that was a real story. 











JLtttrle Jdd’jS J r tcr*>rer,s «*-» 


Y poor flowers are quite dead!” said little 
Ida. “They were so pretty yesterday 
evening, and now all the leaves hang and 
are withered. Why do they do that?” 
she asked the student, who sat on the 
sofa; for she liked him very much. 

He knew the most wonderful stories, and he cut out 
the funniest pictures—hearts, with little ladies in them 
who danced, flowers, and big castles with doors that 
opened; he was a gay student. “Why do the flowers 
look so sick to-day?” she asked again, and showed him 
a whole bouquet, which was all withered. 

“Do you know what’s the matter with them?” said 
the student. “The flowers have been at a ball last night, 
and that’s why they hang their heads.” 

20 


































































LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS 


27 


“But you know that flowers can’t dance!” said little 
Ida. ' 

“Oh, yes,” said the student, “when it gets dark, and 
we are asleep, they hop around and have a good time. 
Almost every single night they have a ball.” 

“Can’t children go to this ball?” 

“Yes,” said the student, “very little daisies, ana lilies 
of the valley.” 

“Where do the prettiest flowers dance?” asked little 
Ida. 

“Haven’t you often been outside the town gate, by 
the big castle, where the king lives in summer, and where 
the beautiful garden is, with all the flowers? You have 
seen the swans, who swim up to you when you want to 
give them bread crumbs ? There are regular balls there, 
I tell you.” 

“I was out there in the garden yesterday, with my 
mother,” said Ida, “but all the leaves were off the trees, 
and there was not one flower left. Where are they? In 
the summer I saw so many.” 

“They are inside, in the castle,” said the student. 
“You see, as soon as the king and all the court go to 
town, the flowers run right away from the garden into 
the castle, and have fun. You ought to see it. The 
two most beautiful roses seat themselves on the throne, 
and then they are king and queen; all the red coxcombs 
range themselves on either side, and stand and bow; 
they are the chamberlains. Then all the daintiest flowers 
come, and there is a great ball. The blue violets stand 
for little naval cadets: they dance with hyacinths and 
crocuses, whom they call young ladies; the tulips and 
the great tiger lilies are old ladies who keep watch that 
the dancing is prettily done, and that everything is 
proper.” 

“But,” asked little Ida, “does nobody do anything to 
the flowers, for dancing in the king’s castle?” 

“There is nobody who really knows about it,” an- 


28 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


swered the student. “Sometimes at night, certainly, the 
old keeper of the castle comes who has to watch there, 
and he has a great bunch of keys with him; but as soon 
as the flowers hear the keys rattle they are very quiet, 
hide behind the long curtains, and only poke their heads 
out. Then the old keeper says, ‘I can smell some flowers 
in here,’ but he can’t see them.” 

“That’s funny!” said little Ida, and clapped her 
hands. “But don’t you think I could see the flowers?” 

“Yes,” said the student; “just remember to peep 
through the window when you go out there again; then 
you will see them. That is what I did to-day. There 
was a long yellow lily lying on the sofa and stretching 
herself. She had an idea she was a court lady.” 

“Can the flowers from the Botanical Gardens get 
there ? Can they come such a long way ?” 

“Yes, certainly,” said the student, “if they want to 
they can fly. Haven’t you seen the beautiful butterflies, 
red, yellow, and white ? They look almost like flowers; 
and that is exactly what they.used to be. They jumped 
off their stalks high in the air, and beat it with their 
leaves, as if the leaves were little wings, and then they 
flew. And because they behaved themselves well, they 
were allowed to fly around in the daytime too, and 
didn’t have to go home again and to sit still on their 
stalks; and in that way the leaves turned into real 
wings. You’ve seen that yourself. It might be, though, 
that the flowers in the Botanical Garden have never 
been in the king’s castle, or that they don’t know about 
the good times there at night. And I’ll tell you some¬ 
thing now that will surprise the botanical professor, who 
lives close by here. You know him, don’t you? When 
you come into his garden, you must tell one of the 
flowers that there is a big ball out at the castle. Then 
that flower will tell it to all the rest, and then they will 
fly away; then if the professor comes out in the garden, 


LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS 


29 


there won’t be a single flower left, and he won’t be able 
to understand where they have gone to.” 

“But how can one flower tell it to another? You 
know flowers can’t speak.” 

“No, that’s perfectly true,” said the student, “but 
they can play pantomime. Haven’t you seen that when 
the wind blows a little, the flowers nod and move all 
their green leaves? That’s just as plain as if they were 
talking.” 

“Can the professor understand pantomime?” asked 

Ida. 

“Yes, certainly. One morning he came into his garden, 
and saw a large stinging nettle standing there, making 
pantomime at a beautiful red carnation with its leaves. 
It was saying, ‘You* are so pretty, and I am so very 
fond of you.’ But the professor doesn’t like that kind 
of thing, and he slapped the stinging nettle on its 
leaves at once, for those are its fingers; but he stung 
himself, and since that time he never dares to touch a 
stinging nettle.” 

“That was funny,” cried little Ida; and she laughed. 

“How can any one put such notions into a child’s 
head?” said the tedious privy councillor, who had come 
to pay a- visit, and was sitting on the sofa. He 
didn’t like the student at all, and always grumbled when 
he saw him cutting out those queer, funny pictures— 
sometimes a man hanging on a gibbet and holding a 
heart in his hand, to show that he stole hearts ; sometimes 
an old witch riding on a broom, and carrying her husband 
on her nose. The councillor couldn’t stand this, and 
then he said, just as he did now, “How can any one put 
such notions into a child’s head? What stupid ideas!” 

But little Ida thought that what the student told 
about her flowers was so funny; and she thought ever so 
much about it. The flowers hung their heads, for they 
were tired because they had danced all night; they were 
certainlv ill. Then she went with them to all her other 


30 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


toys, which stood on a pretty little table, and the whole 
drawer was full of fine things. In the doll’s bed lay 
her doll Sophia, asleep; but little Ida said to her: 

“You’ll really have to get up, Sophia, and be satisfied 
to lie in the drawer to-night. The poor flowers are 
ill, and they must lie in your bed; perhaps they will get 
well then.” 

And she took the doll out; but it looked cross, and 
did not say a single word; for it was angry because it 
couldn’t keep its own bed. 

Then Ida laid the flowers in the doll’s bed, pulled the 
little coverlet up all around them, and said they were 
to lie still and be good, and she would make them some 
tea, so that they might get well again, and be able to get 
up to-morrow. And she pulled the curtains closely 
round the little bed, so that the sun wouldn’t shine in 
their eyes. The whole evening through she couldn’t 
help thinking of what the student had told her. And 
when she was going to bed herself, she first had to look 
behind the window curtains where her mother’s beautiful 
flowers stood—both hyacinths and tulips; and then she 
whispered very softly, “I know you’re going to the ball 
to-night!” But the flowers acted as if they didn’t under¬ 
stand anything and didn’t move a leaf; but still little 
Ida knew what she knew. 

When she was in bed she lay for a long time thinking 
how nice it would be to see the beautiful flowers dancing 
out there in the king’s castle. “I wonder if my flowers 
have really been there?” And then she fell asleep. In 
the night she woke up again: she had been dreaming 
of the flowers, and about the student whom the councillor 
scolded and said he was fooling her. It was very quiet 
in the bedroom where Ida lay; the night lamp burned 
on the table, and her father and mother were asleep. 

“I wonder if my flowers are still lying in Sophia’s 
bed?” she thought to herself. “How I should like to 
know that!” She raised herself a little, and looked at 































































































































LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS 


31 


the door, which stood ajar; in there lay the flowers and 
all her playthings. She listened, and then it seemed 
to her as if she heard some one playing on the piano in 
the next room, but quite softly and prettily, as she had 
never heard it before. 

“I’m sure all the flowers are dancing in there now!” 
she thought. “Oh, heavens, how I should like to see it!” 
But she didn’t dare to get up, for she would have waked 
up her father and mother. 

“If they would only come in here!” she thought. But 
the flowers did not come, and the music kept on playing 
so beautifully; it was much too lovely, she couldn’t help 
slipping out of her little bed; she went quietly to the 
door, and peeked into the room. And oh, what a funny 
sight she saw! 

There was no night lamp burning, but still it was 
quite light; the moon shone through the window into 
the middle of the floor; it was almost like day. All the 
hyacinths and tulips stood in two long rows on the floor; 
there was none at. all left at the window. There stood 
the empty flowerpots. On the floor all the flowers were 
dancing very gracefully round each other, making a 
perfect chain, and holding each other by the long green 
leaves as they swung round. But at the piano sat a 
big yellow lily, which little Ida had certainly seen in 
summer, for she remembered how the student had said, 
“It looks just like Miss Lina,” but then everybody had 
laughed at him; but now it seemed really to little Ida 
as if the long yellow flower looked like the lady; and it 
had just her manners in playing—sometimes bending its 
long yellow face to one side, sometimes to the other, and 
nodding in tune to the lovely music! No one noticed 
little Ida. Then she saw a great blue crocus hop into 
the middle of the table, where the toys stood, and go 
to the doll’s bed and pull the curtains aside; there lay 
the sick flowers, but they got up right away, and nodded 
to the others, to say that they wanted to dance too. The 


82 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


old chimney-sweep doll, whose under lip was broken off, 
stood up and bowed to the pretty flowers; these did not 
look at all ill now; they jumped down among the others, 
and had such a good time. 

Then it seemed as if something fell down from the 
table. Ida looked that way. It was the carnival birch 
rod which was jumping down! it had an idea that it, too, 
belonged to the flowers. At any rate it was very neat; 
and a little wax doll, with just such a broad hat on its 
head as the councillor wore, sat on it. The birch rod 
hopped about among the flowers on its three red legs, 
and stamped quite loud, for it was dancing the mazurka; 
and the other flowers couldn’t dance that, because they 
were too light, and couldn’t stamp. 

The wax doll on the birch rod all at once got big 
and long, whirled around on its paper flowers, and said, 
“How can one put such things in a child’s head? What 
stupid ideas!” and then the wax doll was exactly like 
the councillor with the broad hat, and looked just as 
yellow and cross as he. But the paper flowers hit him 
on his thin legs, and then he shrank up again, and be¬ 
came a tiny little wax doll. It was so funny to look at, 
and little Ida couldn’t help laughing. The birch rod 
went on dancing, and the councillor had to dance too; 
no matter whether he made himself big and long, or 
stayed like the little yellow "wax doll with the broad 
black hat. Then the other flowers put in a good word 
for him, especially those who had been lying in the doll’s 
bed, and then the birch rod stopped. At the same 
moment there was a loud knocking in the drawer, where 
Ida’s doll, Sophia, lay with many other toys. The chim¬ 
ney sweep ran to the edge of the table, lay flat down on 



LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS 


33 


his stomach, and began to pull the drawer out a little. 
Then Sophia sat up, and looked around very surprised. 

“There must be a ball here,” she said, “why didn’t 
somebody tell me?” 

“Will you dance with me?” asked the chimney sweep. 

“You’d be a nice sort of fellow to dance with!” she 
said, and turned her back on him. 

Then she sat down on the drawer, and thought that 
one of the flowers would come and ask her; but not one 
of them came. Then she coughed, “Hem! hem! hem!” 
but nobody came anyway. The chimney sweep then 
danced all alone, and that wasn’t so bad either! 

As none of the flowers seemed to notice Sophia, she 
let herself fall down from the drawer right on the floor, 
with a big noise. The flowers now all came running up, 
to ask her if she had hurt herself; and they were all very 
polite to her, especially the flowers that had been lying 
in her bed. But she hadn’t hurt herself at all; and 
Ida’s flowers all thanked her for the nice bed, and liked 
her so much, took her into the middle of the floor, where 
the moon shone in, and danced with her; and all the 
other flowers made a circle around her. Now Sophia 
was pleased, and said they might keep her bed; she 
didn’t at all mind lying in the drawer. 

But the flowers said, “We thank you very much, but 
we can’t live as long as that. To-morrow we shall be 
quite dead. But tell little Ida she is to bury us out in 
the garden, where the canary lies; then we shall grow 
up again in summer, and be far more beautiful.” 

“No, you must not die,” said Sophia; and she kissed 
the flowers. 

At that moment the door opened, and a whole crowd 



ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


U 

of lovely flowers came dancing in. Ida couldn’t imagine 
where they had come from; they were certainly all the 
flowers from the king’s castle. First of all came two 
lovely roses, and they had little gold crowns on; they 
were a king and a queen. Then came the prettiest 
stocks and carnations; and they bowed in all directions. 
They had music with them. Large poppies and peonies 
blew on pea pods till they were quite red in the face. 
The bluebells and the little w r hite snowdrops tinkled just 
as if they had bells on. That was wonderful music! 
Then came ever so many other flowers, and they all 
danced together; the blue violets and the pink primroses, 
the daisies and the lilies of the valley. And all the 
flowers kissed one another; it was a pretty sight! 

At last the flowers wdshed one another good night; 
then little Ida, too, crept to bed, where she dreamed of 
all she had seen. 

When she got up next morning, she went quickly to 
the little table, to see if the flowers were still there. She 
drew aside the curtains of the little bed; there they all 
lay, but they were quite faded, much more than yester¬ 
day. Sophia was lying in the drawer wdiere Ida had 
laid -her; she looked very sleepy. 

“Do you remember wdiat you had to say to me?” asked 
little Ida. 

But Sophia looked quite stupid, and did not say a 
single word. 

“You are not at all good!” said Ida. “And yet they 
all danced with you.” 

Then she took a little paper box, on which w r ere 
painted beautiful birds, and opened it, and laid the dead 
flowers in it. 

“This is going to be your pretty coffin,” she said, 
“and when my Norwegian cousins come to visit me by 
and by, they shall help me to bury you outside in the 
garden, so that you will grow again in summer, and 
become more beautiful than ever.” 


LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS 


35 


The Norwegian cousins were two fine boys. Their 
names were Jonas and Adolph; their father had given 
them two new crossbows, and they had brought these 
with them to show to Ida. She told them about the poor 
flowers who had died, and then they were allowed to 
bury them. The two boys went first, with their cross¬ 
bows on their shoulders, and little Ida followed with the 
dead flowers in the pretty box. Out in the garden a 
little grave was dug. Ida first kissed the flowers, and 
then laid them in the earth in the box, and Adolph and 
Jonas shot their crossbows over the grave, for they had 
no guns nor cannons. 













EmP 


^Fojdjd eji^ a 



NCE there was a woman who wanted so 
much to have a tiny, little child, but she 
didn’t know at all where she could get 
one. So she went to an old witch, and 
said: 

“I do so very much want a little child! Couldn’t you 
tell me where I could possibly get one ?” 

“Oh! we’ll fix that all right,” said the witch. “Here 
is a barleycorn: it isn’t at all the kind which grows in 
the farmer’s field, and which the chickens get to eat. 
Put it into a flowerpot, and then you’ll see something.” 

“Thank you,” said the woman; and she gave the witch 
a quarter. 

Then she went home and planted the barleycorn, and 
at once a large, lovely flower grew up, which looked like 
a tulip; but the leaves were tightly closed, as though 
it were still a bud. 

“It is a pretty flower,” said the woman; and she 

36 





















TOMMELISA 


37 


kissed its beautiful yellow and red leaves. But just as 
she kissed it the flower opened with a loud crack. It was 
a real tulip, as one could now see; but in the middle of 
the flower on the green chair sat a tiny little girl, so 
delicate and charming. She was only an inch tall [an 
“inch” is “Tomme” in Danish] so she was called Tom- 
melisa. 

For her cradle she had a beautifully varnished walnut 
shell, blue violet leaves were her mattresses, with a rose- 
leaf for a coverlet. There she slept at night; but in 
the daytime she played on the table, where the woman 
had put a plate with a wreath of flowers around 
it, whose stalks stood in water; on the water floated a 
large tulip leaf, and on this Tommelisa could sit, and 
row from one side of the plate to the other, with two 
white horsehairs for oars. That was a lovely sight! 
She could sing, too, and oh, so gently and sweetly, that 
nothing like it had ever been heard before. 

One night as she lay in her pretty bed, a horrid old 
Toad came hopping in at the window, in which one 
pane was broken. The Toad was very ugly, big, and 
wet; she hopped straight down on the table, where Tom¬ 
melisa lay sleeping under the red rose leaf. 

“She would make a lovely wife for my son,” said the 
Toad; and she took the walnut shell in which Tommelisa 
lay asleep, and hopped with it through the window into 
the garden. 

Down there ran a big broad brook; but the edge of 
it was swampy and muddy, and here the Toad lived 
with her son. Ugh! he was ugly and nasty and looked 
just like his mother. “Croak! croak! brek-kek-kex!” 
that was all he could say when he saw the pretty little 
girl in the walnut shell. 

“Don’t talk so loud, or she’ll wake up,” said the old 
Toad. “She might run away from us yet, for she is 
as light as a bit of swan’s-down. We will put her 
out in the brook on one of the broad water-lily leaves. 


38 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


That will be just like an island for her, she is so small 
and light. Then she can’t get away, while we put the 
parlor under the mud in order, where you are to live 
and keep house together.” 

Out in the brook grew many water lilies with broad 
green leaves, which looked as if they were floating on 
the water. The leaf which lay farthest'out was also the 
biggest of all, and to that the old Toad swam out and 
laid the walnut shell on it with Tommelisa. The poor 
little thing woke early in the morning, and when she 
saw where she was, she began to cry so bitterly; for 
there was water on every side of the large green leaf, 
and she could not get to land at all. The old Toad 
sat down there in the mud, and decorated her room 
with sedges and yellow water lilies—it was going to 
be very neat for the new daughter-in-law; then she 
swam out, with her ugly son, to the leaf/on which Tom¬ 
melisa was. They wanted to take her pretty bed, which 
was to be put in the bridal chamber before she went 
in there herself. The old Toad bowed low before her 
in the water, and said: 

“Here is my son; he is going to be your 'husband, 
and you’re going to have such a nice time together 
in the mud.” 

“Croak! croak! brek-kek-kex!” that was all the son 
could say. 

Then they took the elegant little bed, and swam away 
with it; but Tommelisa sat all alone on the green leaf 
and wept, for she didn’t want to live with the nasty 
Toad and have her ugly son for a husband. The 
little fishes who were swimming in the water below had 
seen the Toad, of course, and had also heard what 
she said; therefore they stuck their heads up, for they 
wanted to see the little girl. As soon as they saw 
her they thought she was charming, and it hurt them 
so that she had to go down to the awful Toad. No, 
that must never happen! They flocked together in the 


TOMMELISA 


39 


water around the green stalk which held the leaf on 
which she stood, and with their teeth they gnawed away 
the stalk, and So the leaf floated down the stream; 
and away went Tommelisa, far away, where the Toad 
couldn’t come. 

Tommelisa sailed by many places, and the little birds 
in the bushes saw her, and said, “What a pretty little 
lady!” The leaf swam away with her, farther and 
farther; that was how Tommelisa went abroad. 

A lovely little white butterfly kept fluttering around 
her, and at last sat down on the leaf, because he liked 
Tommelisa very much, and she was so delighted, for now 
the Toad couldn’t reach her; and it was so beautiful 
where she was sailing along—the sun shone on the 
water, it w r as just like shining gold. She took her 
girdle and bound one end of it round the butterfly, 
fastening the other end of the ribbon to the leaf. The 
leaf now glided onward much faster, and Tommelisa 
too, for she w r as standing on the leaf, of course. 

Just at that moment a big Cockchafer came flying; 
and he saw her, and at once put his claws round her 
slender w^aist, and flew with her up into a tree. The 
green leaf w r ent swimming down the brook, and the but¬ 
terfly with it; for he was fastened to the leaf, and could 
not get away from it. 

Heavens! how frightened poor Tommelisa was when 
the Cockchafer flew wdth her up into the tree! But 
most of all she was sorry for the pretty white butterfly 
whom she had tied to the leaf, for, if he could not free 
himself from it, he would have to starve to death. But 
the Cockchafer didn’t worry about that. He seated 
himself with her on the biggest green leaf of the tree, 
gave her the sweet part of flowers to eat, and said 
that she was very pretty, though she didn’t look at 
all like a cockchafer. Afterwards all the other cock¬ 
chafers who lived in the tree came to pay a visit; 


) J 

i * 

> i > 


40 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


they looked at Tommelisa, and the lady cockchafers 
shrugged their feelers and said: 

“Why, she has only two legs!—that looks awful.” 

“She has no feelers!” they said. 

“Her waist is quite slender—pfui! she looks like a 
human creature—how ugly she is!” said all the lady 
cockchafers; and still Tommelisa was very pretty. Even 
the Cockchafer who carried her off thought so; but when 
all the others said she was ugly, he believed it at last, 
too, and wouldn’t have her at all—she might go wher¬ 
ever she liked. Then they flew down with her from 
the tree, and set her on a daisy, and she wept, because 
she was so ugly that the cockchafers wouldn’t have 
her; and yet she was the loveliest thing one could imag¬ 
ine, as delicate and bright as the most beautiful rose 
leaf. 

The whole summer through poor Tommelisa lived 
quite alone in the large wood. She wove herself a bed 
out of blades of grass, and hung it up under a large 
burdock leaf, so that it couldn’t rain on her; she plucked 
the honey out of the flowers for food, and drank of the 
dew which stood every morning on the leaves. In this 
way summer and autumn passed; but now winter came, 
the cold long winter. All the birds who had sung so 
sweetly to her flew away; trees and flowers shed their 
leaves; the big burdock leaf under which she had lived 
shriveled up, and turned into a yellow withered stalk; 
and she was dreadfully cold, for her clothes were torn, 
and she herself was so frail and tiny—poor Tomme¬ 
lisa ! she would freeze to death. It began to snow, and 
every snowflake that fell on her was like a whole 
shovel full thrown on us, for we are tall, and she was 
only an inch long. Then she wrapped herself in a dry 
leaf, but that couldn’t warm her—she shivered with 
cold. 

Close to the wood into which she had now come lay 
a big cornfield, but the corn was gone long ago; only 




TOMMELISA 


41 


the naked dry stubble stood up out of the frozen 
ground. These were just like a whole forest for her 
to walk through; and, oh! how she trembled with cold. 
Then she came to the door of the Field Mouse. This 
was a little hole under the stubble. There the Field 
Mouse lived, warm and comfortable, and had a whole 
room full of corn—a wonderful kitchen and pantry. 
Poor Tommelisa stood at the door just like a poor beg¬ 
gar girl, and begged for a little piece of barleycorn, 
for she hadn’t had the smallest morsel to eat for the 
last two days. 

“You poor little creature,” said the Field Mouse— 
for after all she was a good old Field Mouse—“you 
come into my warm room and eat with me.” 

As she was pleased with Tommelisa, she said, “If 
you like you may stay w r ith me through the winter, but 
you must keep my room clean and neat, and tell me 
stories, for I am very fond of them.” 

And Tommelisa did what the kind old Field Mouse 
told her to, and had a very good time. 

“Pretty soon we are going to have company,” said 
the Field Mouse. “My neighbor is in the habit of 
visiting me once a week. He is even better off than I 
am, has large rooms, and he wears a lovely, black, vel¬ 
vety fur coat. If you could only get him for your 
husband you would be well provided for; but he can’t 
see at all. You must tell him the very prettiest stor¬ 
ies you know.” 

But Tommelisa didn’t care about this; she didn’t 
want the neighbor at all, for he was a Mole. He 
came visiting in his black velvet fur coat. The Field 
Mouse told how rich and how learned he was, and 
how his house was more than twenty times larger than 
hers; and he did know a great deal, but he disliked 
the sun and the beautiful flowers, and said horrid things 
about them, for he had never seen them. 

Tommelisa had to sing, and she sang, “Cockchafer, 



42 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


fly away,” and “The Monk walks in the meadow.” Then 
the Mole fell in love with her, because of her delicious 
voice; but he said nothing, for he was a slow man. 

A short time before, he had dug a long passage 
through the earth from his own house to theirs; and 
Tommelisa and the Field Mouse were allowed to walk 
in this passage whenever they liked. But he begged 
them not to be afraid of the dead bird which was 
lying in the passage. It was a real bird, with feathers 
and a beak. It certainly must have died only a short 
time before, when the winter began, and was now bur¬ 
ied just where the Mole had made his passage. 

The Mole took a piece of rotten, wood in his mouth, 
for that glimmers like fire in the dark; and then he 
went first and lighted them through the long dark pas¬ 
sage. When they came where the dead bird lay, the 
Mole put his broad nose against the ceiling and pushed 
the earth so that -a big hole was made, through which 
the daylight could shine down. In the middle of the 
floor lay a dead Sw T allow, his beautiful wings pressed 
close against his sides, and his head and feet draw T n 
in under his feathers: the poor bird had certainly died 
of cold. Tommelisa was very sorry for him; she was 
very fond of all the little birds, they had sung and twit¬ 
tered so prettily for her through the summer; but the 
Mole gave him a push with his short legs, and said, 
“Now he doesn’t squeak any more. It must be awful 
to be born a little bird. I’m thankful that none of 
my children can be that; such a bird hasn’t anything 
except his ‘tweet, tweet,’ and has to starve in the wdnter!” 

“Well, you’re a sensible man, and you’ve a right to 
say that,” said the Field Mouse. “What use is all 
that twitter to a bird when the winter comes ? He must 
starve and freeze. But that’s something grand, too, I 
suppose.” 

Tommelisa said nothing; but when the two others 
turned their backs on the bird, she bent down, put the 


TOMMELISA 


43 


feathers aside which covered his head, and kissed him 
on his closed eyes. 

‘‘Perhaps it was he who sang so prettily to me in the 
summer,” she thought. “How much pleasure he gave 
me, the dear lovely bird!” 

The Mole now closed up the hole through which the 
daylight shone in, and took the ladies home. But at 
night Tommelisa could not sleep at all; so she got up 
out of her bed, wove a large beautiful rug of hay, and 
she carried this down and spread it over the dead bird, 
and laid soft cotton, which she had found in the Field 
Mouse’s room, at the bird’s sides, so that he might lie 
warm in the cold ground. 

“Good-by, you pretty little bird!” said she. “Good- 
by ! and thank you for your beautiful song in the 
summer, when all the trees were green, and the sun 
shone down so warmly on us.” And then she laid her 
head on the bird’s breast, but at once was greatly 
startled, for it felt as if something were beating inside 
there. That was the bird’s heart. The bird was not 
dead; he was only lying there stiff with cold; and now 
he had been warmed, and came to life again. 

In autumn all the swallows fly away to warm coun¬ 
tries, but if one happens to be late, it gets so cold that 
it falls down as if dead, and lies where it falls, and 
then the cold snow covers it. 

Tommelisa fairly trembled, sbe was so scared; for 
the bird was large, very large, compared with her, who 
was only an inch in height. But she took courage, 
laid the cotton closer round the poor bird, and brought 
a leaf of mint that she had used as her own coverlet, 
and laid it over the bird’s head. 

The next night she tiptoed out to him again—and 
now he was alive, but quite weak; he could only open 
his eyes for a moment, and look at Tommelisa, who 
stood before him with a bit of rotten wood in her hand, 
for she had no other lantern. 


44 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“I thank you, you pretty little child,” said the sick 
Swallow; “you made me feel much warmer. Soon I 
shall get my strength back again, and then I can fly 
out in the warm sunshine.” 

“Oh,” she said, “it is so cold outside. It is snow¬ 
ing and freezing. Stay in your warm bed, and I will 
nurse you.” 

Then she brought the Swallow water in the petal of 
a flower; and the Swallow drank, and told her how he 
had scratched one of his wings on a thorn, and so 
hadn’t been able to fly as fast as the other swallows, 
when they flew away, far aw r ay, to the warm coun¬ 
tries. So at last he had fallen to the ground, but 
he couldn’t remember anything else, and did not 
know at all how he had come where she had found 
him. 

He stayed there then the whole winter, and Tom- 
melisa was very good to him and liked him so much. 
Neither the Field Mouse nor the Mole heard anything 
about it, for they did not like the poor Swallow, who 
hadn’t any money. When the spring came, and* the sun 
warmed the earth, the Swallow said good-by to Tomme- 
lisa, and she opened the hole which the Mole had made 
in the ceiling. The sun shone beautifully on them, and 
the Swallow asked if Tommelisa would go with him; she 
could sit on his back, and they would fly far away 
into the green woods. But Tommelisa knew that the 
old Field Mouse would be sorry if she left her. 

“No, I can’t do it!” said Tommelisa. 

“Good-by, good-by, you kind, pretty girl!” said the 
Swallow; and he flew out in the sunshine. Tommelisa 
looked after him, and the tears came into her eyes, for 
she was so fond of the poor Swallow. 

“Tweet, tweet! tweet, tweet!” sang the bird, and flew 
into the green forest. Tommelisa felt very sad. She 
wasn’t allowed to walk in the warm sunshine. The corn 
which was sown in the field over the house of the Field 


TOMMELISA 


45 


Mouse grew up high in the air; it was quite a thick 
wood for the poor girl, who was only an inch tall. 

“Now you must work at your wedding things this 
summer,” said the Field Mouse to her; for her neigh¬ 
bor, the tedious Mole with the velvet coat, had pro¬ 
posed to her. “You shall have both woolen and linen 
clothes, things to sit on and things to lie on, when 
you’re the wife of the Mole.” 

Tommelisa had to turn the spindle, and the Field 
Mouse hired four spiders to spin and weave for her day 
and night. Every evening the Mole paid her a visit; 
and he was always saying that when the summer should 
draw to a close, the sun wouldn’t shine nearly so hot; 
now it was burning the earth almost as hard as a 
stone. Yes, when the summer was over, then he would 
celebrate his wedding with Tommelisa. But she wasn’t 
pleased at all, for she didn’t like the tiresome Mole. 
Every morning when the sun rose, and every evening 
when it went down, she tiptoed out at the door; and 
when the wind blew' the corn ears apart, so that she 
could see the blue sky, she thought how bright and 
beautiful it was out here, and wished so much to see her 
dear Swallow again. But the Swallow did not come 
back; he must be flying far away in the pretty green 
woods. When autumn came on, Tommelisa had all 
her weddings things ready. 

“In four weeks you shall be married,” said the Field 
Mouse to her. 

But Tommelisa cried and said she would not have 
the dreary Mole. 

“Nonsense,” said the Field Mouse, “don’t be stub¬ 
born now, or I will bite you wdth my white tooth. You 
couldn’t ask for a better husband; the queen herself 
couldn’t match his black velvet fur coat; and his kitchen 
and cellar are full. You’d better thank Heaven for him!” 

Now the wedding was to be held. The Mole had al¬ 
ready come to get Tommelisa; she was to live with him 


46 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


deep under the earth, and never to come out in the warm 
sunshine, because he didn’t like it. The poor little 
thing was very sad; she was now to say farewell to the 
beautiful sun, which, after all, she had been allowed by 
the Field Mouse to see from the threshold of the door. 

“Farewell, you bright sun!” she said, and stretched 
out her arms toward it, and walked a. little way out of 
the house of the Field Mouse, for now the corn had 
been reaped, and only the dry stubble stood in the fields. 
“Farewell!” she repeated, and threw her little arms 
round a small red flower which still bloomed there. 
“Greet the dear Swallow from me, if you see him 
again.” 

“Tweet, tweet! tweet, tweet!” a voice suddenly 
sounded over her head. She looked up; it was the Swal¬ 
low, who was just flying by. When he saw Tommelisa 
he was very glad; and she told him how she hated to 
have the ugly Mole for her husband, and that she was 
to live deep under the earth, where the sun never shone. 
And she couldn’t help crying. 

“The cold winter is coming now,” said the Swallow; 
“I am going to fly far away to* the warm countries. 
Will you come with me? You can sit on my back, only 
tie yourself fast with your sash, then well fly from 
the horrid Mole and his dark house—away, far away, 
over the mountains, to the warm countries, where the 
sun shines more beautifully than here, where there is 
always summer, and lovely flowers. You fly with me, 
sweet little Tommelisa, who saved my life when I lay 
frozen in the dark cellar.” 

“Yes, I will come with you!” said Tommelisa, and 
she climbed up on the bird’s back, with her feet on his 
outspread wings, and bound her girdle fast to one of 
his strongest feathers; then the Swallow flew up in the 
air over forests and over seas, high up over the great 
mountains, where the snow always lies; and Tomme¬ 
lisa felt cold in the chilly air, but then she crept under 













I 





f 

















































TOMMELISA 


47 


the bird’s warm feathers, and only put out her little 
head to see all the loveliness under her. 

At last they came to the warm countries. There the 
sun shone much brighter than here; the sky seemed 
twice as high; and along roads and hedges grew the 
most beautiful blue and green grapes; lemons and 
oranges hung in the woods; the air was fragrant with 
myrtles and mint and on the roads the loveliest chil¬ 
dren ran and played with big, bright-colored butter¬ 
flies. But the Swallow flew still farther, and every¬ 
thing was more and more beautiful. Under splendid 
green trees by a blue lake stood a palace of dazzling 
white marble, from olden time. Vines climbed around 
the tall pillars; at the top were many swallows’ nests, 
and in one of these the Swallow lived who carried Tom- 
melisa. 

“Here is my house,” said the Swallow. “But if you 
will pick out for yourself one of the finest flowers 
which grow down there, then I will put you in it, and 
there you’ll be as happy as the day is long.” 

“How lovely,” she said, and clapped her little hands. 

A large marble pillar lay there, which had fallen 
to the ground and had been broken into three pieces; 
but between these pieces grew the most beautiful big 
white flowers. The Swallow flew down with Tommelisa, 
and set her on one of the broad leaves. But what a 
surprise she got! A little man was sitting in the midst 
of the flower, as white and transparent as if he had 
been made of glass; he wore the daintiest gold crown on 
his head, and the brightest wings on his shoulders; he 
himself was not bigger than Tommelisa. He was the 
angel of the flower. In each of the flowers lived such 
a little man or woman, but this one was king over 
them all. 

“Heavens! how beautiful he is !” whispered Tommelisa 
to the Swallow. 

The little prince was very much frightened at the 


48 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


Swallow; for it was like a giant bird to him, who w 7 as 
so small and delicate. But when he saw Tommelisa 
he was very happy; she was the prettiest girl he had 
ever seen. And so he took off his golden crown, and 
put it on her, asked her name and if she would be his 
wife, and then she should be queen of all the flow T ers. 
Well, this w r as certainly a different husband from the 
son of the Toad, and the Mole w r ith the black velvet 
fur. She therefore said “Yes” to the charming prince. 
And out of every flower came a lady or a gentleman, 
so pretty that it w 7 as a delight: each one brought Tom¬ 
melisa a present: but the best gift was a pair of beau¬ 
tiful wungs which had belonged to a big white fly; 
these w r ere fastened to Tommelisa’s back, and now she 
could fly from flow r er to flower. Then there was much 
happiness; and the Sw 7 allow sat above them in his nest, 
and sang for them as w r ell as he could; but yet in his 
heart he was sad, for he was so fond of Tommelisa, and 
would have liked never to part from her. 

“You shall not be called Tommelisa!” said the Flower 
Angel to her, “that is an ugly name, and you are so 
pretty—we will call you Maia.” 

“Good-by, good-by!” said the Swallow, and he flew 7 
away again from the warm countries, far away back to 
Denmark. There he had a little nest over the window 7 
of the man who can tell fairy tales. To him he sang 
“Tweet, tw 7 eet! tweet, tweet!” and from him we have the 
w 7 hole story. 









Traveliug 

CompGpion 


P OOR Johannes was very sad, because his 
father was very ill, and couldn’t get well 
again. There was no one at all in the 
little room, except the two of them; the 

-' lamp on the table was nearly out, and it 

was quite late in the evening. 

“You have been a good son, Johannes,” said the sick 
father. “The Lord will help you through the world.” 
And he looked at him with mild earnest eyes, drew 
a deep breath, and died; it was just as if he slept. But 
Johannes cried; for now he had no one in the world, 
neither father nor mother, neither sister nor brother. 
Poor Johannes! He knelt down beside the bed, kissed 
his dead father’s hand, and cried many a salt tear, 
but at last his eyes closed, and he went to sleep, with 
his head against the hard bed-board. 

49 

























50 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


Then he dreamed a strange dream; he saw the sun and 
moon bow to him, and he saw his father again, fresh 
and well, and he heard his father laugh* as he had always 
laughed when he was really pleased. A beautiful girl, 
with a golden crown on her long beautiful hair, gave 
him her hand; and his father said, “See what a bride 
} r ou have! She is the most beautiful in the whole 
world !” Then he woke up, and all the beauty was gone. 
His father was tying dead and cold in the bed, and there 
was no one at all with them. Poor Johannes! 

Next week the dead man was buried. Johannes 
walked close behind the coffin, and now he couldn’t see 
his good father any more who had loved him so much. 
He heard how they threw the earth down on the 
coffin, and looked at the last corner of it; but the next 
shovel full of earth hid even that; then he felt just as 
if his heart would burst into pieces, so sorrowful was 
he. Around him they were singing a psalm; it sounded 
so beautiful, and the tears came into J ohannes’ eyes; he 
cried, and that did him good. The sun shone brightly 
on the green trees, just as if it wanted to say, “You 
mustn’t be so sad, Johannes. Look how nice and blue 
the sky is; your father is up there now and he is pray¬ 
ing the good God that everything will always be well 
w T ith you.” 

“I will always be good,” said Johannes, “then I shall 
go to heaven to my father; and what joy that will be 
when we see each other again! How much I shall have 
to tell him then! and he will show me so many things, 
and teach me so much about all the beautiful things 
in heaven, just as he taught me here on earth. Oh, 
what happiness it w'ill be!” 

He pictured that to himself so plainly that he smiled, 
while the tears were still rolling down his cheeks. The 
little birds sat up in the chestnut trees, and twittered, 
“Tweet, tweet! tweet, tweet!” They were very gay, 
though they had been at the burying, but they knew 


THE TRAVELING COMPANION 


51 


quite well that the dead man was now in heaven; that he 
had wings, far larger and more beautiful than theirs; 
that he was now happy, because he had been a good man 
on earth, and this was why they were so pleased. Jo^ 
liannes saw how they flew from the green trees out into 
the world, and he w r anted very much to fly with them. 
But first he cut out a great cross of wood to put on his 
father’s grave; and when he brought it there in the 
evening the grave was decked with sand and flowers; 
strangers had done this, for they were all very fond of 
the good father who was now dead. 

Early next morning Johannes packed his little bun¬ 
dle, and hid in his belt his whole inheritance, which 
consisted of fifty dollars and a few silver coins; with 
this he was going to wander out into the world. But 
first he went to the churchyard, to his father’s grave, 
repeated the Lord’s Prayer, and said, “Farewell, dear 
father, I will always be good, and so you may dare to 
pray to the good God that things may go well with 
me.” 

Out in the field where he was walking all the flowers 
stood fresh and beautiful in the warm sunshine; and 
they nodded in the wind, just as if they would have 
said, “Welcome to the country! Isn’t it lovely here?” 
But Johannes turned back once more to look at the 
old church, in which he had been christened when he 
was a little child, and where he had been every Sun¬ 
day with his father at the service, and had sung his 
hymn; then, high up in one of the openings of the 
tower, he saw the church-nisse [a good Danish goblin] 
standing with his little pointed red cap, shading his 
face with his bent arm, to keep the sun from shining 
in his eyes. Johannes nodded good-by to him, and 
the little nisse w r aved his red cap, laid his hand on his 
heart, and kissed his hand to Johannes a great many 
times, to show that he wished him the best of luck and 
hoped he’d have a wonderful journey. 


52 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


Johannes was thinking of all the beautiful things he 
was going to see in the big splendid world; and he went 
oil farther—farther than he had ever been before. He 
did not know the places at all through which he came, 
nor the people whom he met. Now he was far away 
among strangers. 



The first night he had to lie on a haystack in the 
field to sleep, for he had no other bed. But that was 
very nice, he thought; the king couldn’t be better off. 
There was the whole field, with the brook, the haystack, 
and the blue sky above it; that was certainly a pretty 
bedroom. The green grass with the little red and white 
flowers was the carpet; the elder bushes and the wild 
rose hedges were bouquets of flowers; and for a wash 
basin he had the whole brook with the clear fresh water, 
where the sedges bowed before him and said both “good 
evening” and “good morning.” The moon was a big 














THE TRAVELING COMPANION 


53 


night lamp, high up under the blue ceiling, and that 
lamp would never set fire to the curtains. Johannes 
could sleep in peace, and he did so, and never woke 
until the sun rose and all the little birds were singing 
around, “Good morning! good morning! Aren’t you 
up yet?” 

The bells were ringing for church; it was Sunday. 
The people went to hear the preacher, and Johannes 
followed them, and sang a hymn and heard the word 
of God. It seemed to him just as if he was in his 
own church, where he had been christened and had 
sung hymns with his father. 

Out in the churchyard were many graves, and on some 
of them the grass grew high. Then he thought of his 
father’s grave, that would have to look like these since 
he couldn’t be there to weed it and decorate it. So 
he sat down and tore off the grass, set up the wooden 
crosses which had fallen down, and put back in their 
places the wreaths which the wind had blown away from 
the graves; for he thought, “Perhaps some one will do 
the same to my father’s grave, now that I can’t.” 

Outside the churchyard gate stood an old beggar, 
leaning on his crutch. John gave him the silver coins he 
had, and then went away, happy and cheerful, into 
the w T ide world. Toward evening the weather got 
terribly bad. He hurried to get under a roof, but it 
soon got very dark; then at last he came to a little 
church, which stood all alone on top of a hill. 

The door luckily stood ajar, and he slipped in; he 
would stay here till the storm had gone down. 

“I will sit down in a corner here,” he said, “I am quite 
tired and I do need a little rest.” Then he sat down, 
folded his hands, and said his evening prayer; and 
before he was aware of it he was asleep and dreaming, 
while it thundered and lightened outside. 

When he woke up again it was midnight; but the bad 
weather had passed by, and the moon shone in on him 


54 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


through the windows. In the midst of the church stood 
an open coffin with a dead man in it who had not yet 
been buried. Johannes wasn’t afraid at all, for he 
had a good conscience; and he knew very well that the 
dead do not hurt anybody. Only living, bad people 
do harm. Two such living bad men stood close by the 
dead man, who had been placed here in the church till 
he should be buried. They wanted to hurt him; they 
wouldn’t let him rest quietly in his coffin, but were 
going to throw him outside the church door—the poor 
dead man! 

“Why do you want to do that?” asked Johannes; 
“that is wrong and wicked. Let him rest, for mercy’s 
sake.” 

“Nonsense!” said the two horrid men, “he had cheated 
us. He owed us money and could not pay it, and 
now he’s skipped out and died, and we shan’t get a 
penny! So we’re going to get a real revenge; he shall 
lie like a dog outside the church door!” 

“All I have is fifty dollars,” said Johannes, “that 
is my whole inheritance; but I will gladly give it to you, 
if you will honestly promise me to leave the poor dead 
man in peace. I’ll get along without that money. I 
am well and strong and the Lord will always help me.” 

“Well,” said the nasty men, “if you want to pay his 
debts that way, we won’t do anything to him, you can 
be sure of that,” and then they took the money Jo¬ 
hannes gave them, laughed aloud at his good nature, 
and went their way. But he laid the corpse out again 
in the coffin, and folded its hands, said good-by, and 
went away contentedly through the great forest. 

All around, wherever the moon could shine in through 
the trees, he saw the most charming little elves playing 
perfectly happily. They didn’t let him frighten them; 
they knew that he was a good, innocent boy; and it is 
only bad people who never can see the elves. Some 
of them were no larger than a finger, and had fas- 


THE TRAVELING COMPANION 55 

tened up their long yellow hair with golden combs: 
they were swinging two and two on the big dewdrops 
that lay on the leaves and on the high grass; some¬ 
times the drop rolled away, and then they fell down 
between the long grass stalks, and then there was much 
laughing and noise among the other little creatures. It 
was awfully funny! They sang, and John recognized 
quite plainly the pretty songs which he had learned 
as a little boy. Large colored spiders, with silver 
crowns on their heads, had to spin long hanging bridges 
and palaces from hedge to hedge; and as the fine dew- 
drops fell on these they looked like shining glass in 
the clear moonlight. This kept on until the sun rose. 
Then the little elves crept into the flower buds, and 
the wind caught at their bridges and palaces, and 
they flew through the air then, like spiders’ webs. 

Johannes had just come out of the wood, when a 
man’s strong voice called out behind him, “Hello, com¬ 
rade! Where are you going?” 

“Into the wide world!” he said. “I have neither 
father nor mother, and am but a poor lad; but God 
will help me.” 

“I am going out into the wide world, too,” said the 
strange man, “shall we two keep each other company?” 

“Yes, certainly,” said Johannes; and so they went 
on together. Soon they became very fond of each 
other, for they were both good people. But Johannes 
saw that the stranger was much more clever than him¬ 
self. He had traveled nearly around the world, and 
could talk about almost everything. 

The sun already stood high when they sat down under 
a large tree to eat their breakfast; and just then an 
old woman came up. Oh, she was very old, and walked 
all bent over, leaning upon a crutch; on her back she 
carried a bundle of firewood which she had gathered in 
the forest. Her apron was tucked up, and Johannes 
saw that three big bunches of fern and willow twigs 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


5G 

stuck out of it. When she was close to them, her 
foot slipped; she fell and gave a loud scream, for she 
had broken her leg, the poor old woman! 

Johannes at once wanted to carry her home where 
she lived; but the stranger opened his knapsack, took 
out a little jar, and said that he had a salve there 



which would make her leg whole and strong right away, 
so that she could walk home herself, as if she had 
never broken her leg at all. But for that he wanted 
her to give him the three bunches of twigs which she 
carried in her apron. 

‘"That would be a good price!” said the olct woman, 
and she nodded her head in a strange way. She did 
not like to give aw T ay the switches, but it wasn’t so 
pleasant, either, to lie there with a broken leg. So she 
gave him the switches; and as soon as he had rubbed 















THE TRAVELING COMPANION 57 

Ihc salve on her leg, the old woman got up and walked 
much better than before—such was the power of this 
salve. But you couldn’t buy that at the drugstore. 

“What do you want with those switches?” Johannes 
asked* his traveling companion. 

“They make three nice bouquets,” he said. “I’m 
a queer fellow, and that’s just the sort of thing I like.” 

And they went on a good way. 

“Look how the sky is becoming overcast,” said Johan¬ 
nes, pointing straight before them. “Those are terribly 
thick clouds.” 

“No,” said his traveling companion, “those are not 
clouds, they are mountains—the‘big, lovely mountains, 
where one can get right up above the clouds, and into 
the free air. That’s fine, I tell you! To-morrow we 
shall certainly be far out in the world.” 

But it wasn’t so near as it looked; they had to w r alk 
for a whole day before they came to the mountains, 
where the black w r oods grew straight up toward 
heaven, and there were stones almost as big as a whole 
town. It would certainly be hard work to get all the 
way across them, and for that reason Johannes and 
his comrade went into an inn to get a good rest and 
gather strength for the trip next day. 

There w r ere a lot of people in the big barroom of 
the inn, for there was a man here with a doll theater; 
he had just put it up and the people were sitting 
around to see the play. Down in front a fat old 
butcher had taken his seat in the very best place; his 
big bulldog,—woof, he looked fierce,—sat at his side, 
and made big eyes, as all the rest were doing. 

Now the play began; and it was a very nice play, with 
a king and a queen in it; they sat on a velvet throne, 
and had gold crowns on their heads and long trains to 
their cloaks, for they could afford that. The nicest 
wooden dolls with glass eyes and big whiskers stood at 
all the doors, and opened and shut them so that fresh 




58 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


air might come into the room. It was a very lovely 
play, and not a bit sad. But just as the queen stood up 
and was walking across the boards—goodness knows 
what the bulldog was thinking, but the fat butcher 
wasn’t holding on to him and he made one jump to the 
stage, and seized the queen round her slender waist so 
that it cracked. It was perfectly terrible! 

The poor man who managed the play was so scared 
and so sorry about his queen, for she was the daintiest 
little doll he had, and now the horrid bulldog had bitten 
off her head. But afterward, when the people went 
away, the stranger said that he would fix her all right; 
and then he brought out his little jar, and rubbed the 
doll with the ointment with which he had cured the 
poor old woman when she broke her leg. As soon as 
the doll had been rubbed, she was well again; more 
than that, she could even move all her limbs by her¬ 
self ; it was no longer necessary to pull her by her string. 
The doll was like a living person, only that she could, 
not speak. The man who had the little puppet show 
was so pleased, now he didn’t have to hold on to this 
doll any more. She could dance by herself, and none 
of the others could do that. 

When night came on, and all the people in the inn 
had gone to bed, there was some one who sighed so 
fearfully, and went on doing it so long, that they all got 
up to see who this could be. The man who had shown 
the play went to his little theater, for it was in there 
that somebody was sighing. All the wooden dolls were 
mixed up, the king and all his followers; and it was 
they who sighed so pitifully, and stared with their big 
glass eyes; for they wanted so much to be rubbed a 
little as the queen had been, so that they might be 
able to move by themselves. The queen went right 
down on her knees, and held out her beautiful golden 
crown, as if she begged, “Take this from me, but rub 
my consort and my courtiers!” Then the poor man 


THE TRAVELING COMPANION 


59 


who owned the little theater and the dolls couldn’t help 
crying, for he was really sorry for them. He immedi¬ 
ately promised the traveling companion that he would 
give him all the money he should receive the next 
evening for the performance if the latter would only 
anoint four or five of his nicest dolls. But the travel¬ 
ing companion said he wanted only the big sword the 
man wore by his side; and when he got this he anointed 
six of the dolls, who immediately began to dance so 
gracefully that all the girls, the living human girls, who 
were looking on, began to dance too. The coachman and 
the cook danced, the waiter and the chambermaid, and 
all the strangers, and the fire shovel and tongs; but 
these two fell down just as they made their first jump. 
It was a lively night! 

The next morning Johannes went away from them all 
with his traveling companion, up the high mountains, 
and through the great pine woods. They came up 
so high that the church steeples far below them looked 
at last like little red berries among all the green; and 
they could see very far, many, many miles away, where 
they had never been. The world was lovely, and 
Johannes had never before seen so much of its beauty 
at the same time. The sun shone so warmly through 
the fresh blue air; and among the mountains he could 
hear the huntsmen blowing their horns so gaily and 
sweetly that tears came in his eyes, and he couldn’t 
help saying, “Dear Lord, you’re so good to us, I could 
kiss you because you’re so kind and have given us all 
the beautiful things in the world.” 

The traveling companion also stood there with folded 
hands, and looked over the forest and the towns in the 
warm sunshine. At the same time they heard a strange, 
lovely sound over their heads; they looked up, and a 
great white swan was soaring in the air, and singing 
as they had never heard a bird sing till then. But the 
song became weaker and weaker; he bowed his head 


60 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


and sank quite slowly down at their feet, where he lay 
dead, the beautiful bird! 

“Two such splendid wing’s,” said the traveling com¬ 
panion, “so white and large, as those which this bird 
has, are worth money; I will take them with me. You 
can see now it was a good thing I got a sabre!” 

And so, with one blow, he cut off both the wings of 
the dead swan, for he wanted to keep them. 

They now traveled for many, many miles over the 
mountains, till at last they saw a great town before them 
"with hundreds of towers, which glittered like silver in 
the sun. In the midst of the town was a splendid mar¬ 
ble palace, roofed w T ith red gold. And there the king 
lived. 

Johannes and the traveling companion wouldn’t go 
into the town at once, but stayed in the inn outside the 
town, so that they could dress up a little; for they 
wanted to look nice when they came out in the streets. 
The host told them that the king was such a good man 
who never did anything to anybody, he wouldn’t hurt 
a fly, but his daughter, well, God help us, she was a 
wicked princess! She was beautiful, all right—no one 
could be so pretty and so charming as she was—but 
of what use was that? She was a bad, evil witch, 
through whose fault many lovely princes had lost their 
lives. She had given permission to all men to seek 
her hand. Any one might come, prince or beggar; it 
was all the same to her. He had only to guess three 
things about which she questioned him. If he could 
do that she would marry him, and he v r ould be king 
over the whole country when her father should die; 
but if he could not guess the three things, she had him 
hanged or had his head cut off! So bad and so wicked 
was the beautiful princess. Her father, the old king, 
was very sorry about it; but he could not forbid her 
to be so bad, because he had once said that he w 7 ould 
have nothing to do with her sweethearts; she could 


THE TRAVELING COMPANION 


61 


do as siic liked. Every time a prince came, and was 
to guess to get the princess, he couldn’t do it, and 
was hanged or lost his head. He had been warned 
in time, you see, and he needn’t have proposed. The 
old king was so sorry for all this misery and woe that 
he used to go down on his knees with all his soldiers 
for a whole day in every year, praying that the princess 
might become good; but she wouldn’t at all. The old 
women who drank whisky used to color it quite black 
before they drank it, they were so sorrowful—and they 
certainly could do no more. 

“The horrid princess!” said Johannes, “she ought 
really to be whipped; that would do her good. If I 
were only the old king I’d whip her till the blood ran i” 

Just then they heard the people outside shouting 
“Hurrah!” The princess came by; and she was really 
so beautiful that all the people forgot how wicked 
she w r as, and that is why they cried “Hurrah!” Twelve 
beautiful maidens, all in w T hite silk gowms, and each 
with a golden tulip in her hand, rode on coal-black 
horses at her side. The princess herself had a snow- 
white horse, decorated with diamonds and rubies. Her 
riding habit was pure gold, and the whip she held in 
her hand looked like a sunbeam; the golden crown on 
her head was just like little stars out of the sky, and 
her mantle was sewn together out of more than a thou¬ 
sand beautiful butterfly wings. In spite of this, she 
herself was much more lovely than all her clothes. 

When Johannes saw her, his face became as red as a 
drop of blood, and he could hardly utter a word. The 
princess looked just like the beautiful girl with the 
golden crown, of whom he had dreamt on the night when 
his father died. He thought she was lovely and he 
couldn’t help being very fond of her. He said he was 
sure it couldn’t be true that she was a wicked witch, 
who let people be hanged or beheaded if they couldn’t 
guess the riddles she put to them. 


62 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“After all, anybody has a right to propose to her, 
even the poorest beggar; I really must go up to the 
castle; I can’t help it.” 

They all told him not to try it, for he would cer¬ 
tainly be no better off than all the rest. His travel¬ 
ing companion also told him not to ; but Johannes was 
sure it would be all right. He brushed his shoes and 
his coat, washed his face and his hands, combed his 
beautiful yellow hair, and then went quite alone into 
the town and to the palace. 

“Come in!” said the old king, when Johannes knocked 
at the door. 

Johannes opened it, and the old king came to meet 
him in a dressing gown and embroidered slippers; he 
had the crown on his head, and the scepter in one hand 
and the orb in the other. “Wait a minute!” he said, and 
put the orb under his arm, so that he could reach out 
his hand to Johannes. But as soon as he heard that 
his visitor was a suitor, he began to cry so hard that 
both the scepter and the orb fell on the floor, and he 
had to wipe his eyes with his dressing gown. Poor 
old king! 

“Give it up!” said he. “You’ll get in trouble just 
like all the others. Now I’ll just show you.” 

Then he led him out to the princess’ pleasure garden, 
and it was a terrible sight! In every tree hung three 
or four princes who had proposed to the princess, but 
had not been able to guess the riddles she gave them. 
Whenever the breeze blew all the skeletons rattled, so 
that the little birds were frightened, and never dared 
to come into the garden. All the flowers were tied up 
to human bones, and in the flowerpots skulls stood 
and grinned. That was a nice garden for a princess. 

“You can see for yourself now,” said the old king. 
“What happened to all the others will happen to you, 
so please don’t do it. You’ll really make me unhappy, 
because I mind these things very much.” 


THE TRAVELING COMPANION 


63 


Johannes kissed the good old king’s hand and said 
everything would be all right because he was so fond 
of the lovely princess. 

Then the princess herself came riding into the court¬ 
yard, with all her ladies; and they went out to her 
and wished her good morning. She was certainty beau¬ 
tiful and she shook hands with Johannes and he liked 
her even more than before; he was sure she couldn’t 
be a bad, wicked witch, as everybody said. Then 
they went up to the reception room* and the little pages 
waited on them with jam and gingerbread nuts. But 
the old king was very sad; he could not eat anything 
at all. Besides, gingerbread nuts were too hard for 
him. 

It was settled that Johannes should come to the pal¬ 
ace again the next morning; then the judges and the 
whole council would be assembled, and would hear how 
he got along with his answers. If it went well, he 
was to come twice again; but so far nobody had guessed 
right the first time, and so they had had to lose their 
lives. 

Johannes wasn’t at all worried about how he would get 
along, in fact he was very cheerful, and thought only 
of the beautiful princess, and felt quite certain that the 
good Lord would help him, but how he did not know, 
and preferred not to think of it. He danced along on 
the road returning to the inn, where his traveling 
companion was waiting for him. 

Johannes couldn’t stop telling how nice the princess 
had been to him, and how beautiful she was. He said 
he already longed for the next day, when he was to go 
into the palace and try his luck in guessing. 

But the traveling companion shook his head and was 
rather sad. “I am so fond of you!” said he. “We 
might have been together a long time yet, and now I 
am to lose you already! You poor dear Johannes! 
I should like to cry, but I won’t spoil your happiness 


64 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


on the last evening, perhaps, we shall ever spend 
together. We’ll have a good time, a really good 
time. To-morrow, when you are gone, I can let my¬ 
self cry.” 

All the people in the town had heard right away that 
a new suitor for the princess had arrived; and so there 
was great sorrow. The theater was closed; the women 
who sold cakes tied bits of crape round their sugar 
pigs, and the king and the priests were on their knees 
in the churches. There was great lamentation; be¬ 
cause, of course, Johannes wouldn’t have better luck 
than everjrbody else. 

Late that night the traveling companion mixed a big 
bowl of punch, and said to Johannes, “We’ll be very 
gay, and drink to the health of the princess.” But 
when Johannes had drunk two glasses, he became so 
sleepy that he couldn’t possibly keep his eyes open; he 
had to go to sleep. The traveling companion lifted 
him very gently from his chair, and laid him in the 
bed; and when it was dark night, he took the two large 
wings which he had cut off the swan and tied them to 
his own shoulders. Then he put in his pocket the long¬ 
est of the switches he had got from the old woman 
who had fallen and broken her leg; and he opened the 
window and flew away over the town, straight toward 
the palace, where he seated himself in a corner under 
the window which looked into the bedroom of the 
princess. 

All was quiet in the whole town. Now the clock struck 
a quarter to twelve, the window was opened, and the 
princess came out in a large white mantle and with 
long, black wings, and flew away across the town to a 
high mountain. But the traveling companion made him¬ 
self invisible, so that she couldn’t see him at all, and 
flew behind her, and whipped the princess with his 
switches, so that the blood actually came wherever he 
struck. My! What speed clear through the air! The 

































































































































THE TRAVELING COMPANION 


65 


wind caught her mantle, so that it spread out on all 
sides like a great sail, and the moon shone through it. 

“What a hailstorm! What a hailstorm!” said the 
princess at every blow she got from the rod; and it 
served her right. At last she came to the mountain, 
and knocked there. There was a rolling like thunder, 
as the mountain opened, and the princess went in. The 
traveling companion followed her, for no one could see 
him—he was invisible. They went through a large, long 
passage, where the walls sparkled in the strangest way: 
there were more than a thousand glowing spiders run¬ 
ning up and down the walls and gleaming like fire. 
Then they came into a great hall built of silver and 
gold; flowers as big as sunflowers, red and blue, shone 
on the walls; but no one could pluck these flowers, for 
the stems w^ere nasty poisonous snakes, and the flowers 
w T ere streams of fire pouring out of their mouths. The 
whole ceiling was covered with shining glowworms and 
sky-blue bats, flapping their thin wings; it looked most 
peculiar. In the middle of the floor was a throne, car¬ 
ried by four horse skeletons, with harness of the red 
fire spiders; the throne itself was of milk-white glass, 
and the cushions were little black mice, biting each 
other’s tails. Above it was a canopy of rose-pink 
spider’s web, trimmed with the nicest little green flies, 
which gleamed like jewels. On the throne sat an old 
troll [a wizard], with a crown on his ugly head and a 
scepter in his hand. He kissed the princess on the 
forehead, made her sit down beside him on the costly 
throne, and then the music began. Big black grass¬ 
hoppers played on mouth organs, and the owl beat its 
own stomach because it hadn’t a drum. That was a 
queer concert! Tiny little goblins with will-o’-the-wisp 
lights in their caps danced around in the hall. But 
no one could see the traveling companion; he had 
placed himself just behind the throne, and heard and 
saw everything. The courtiers, who now came in, were 



66 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


very nice and elegant; but he who had eyes to see didn’t 
take long to find them out. They were nothing more 
than broomsticks with heads of cabbages on them, whom 
the troll had bewitched to look like people, and to whom 
he had given embroidered clothes. But it was all the 
same, anyway; they were only for show. 

After there had been a little dancing, the princess 
told the troll that she had a new suitor, and therefore 
she asked him what she should think of to ask the 
suitor when he came up next day to the palace. 

“Listen!” said the troll, “I’ll tell you something: 
you must take something very easy, then he won’t think 
of it at all. You think of one of your shoes. ITe won’t 
guess that. Let him have his head cut off; but don’t 
forget, when you come to me to-morrow night, to bring 
me his eyes, for I’ll eat them.” 

The princess curtsied very low, and said she would 
not forget the eyes. The troll opened the mountain, 
and she flew home again; but the traveling companion 
followed her, and thrashed her again so hard with the 
switches that she sighed quite deeply about the heavy 
hailstorm, and hurried as much as she could to get 
back into the bedroom through the open window. But 
the traveling companion flew back to the inn, where 
Johannes was still asleep, took off his wings, and then 
lay down on the bed, for he might well be tired. 

It was quite early in the morning when Johannes 
woke up. The traveling companion also got up, and 
said he had had a very strange dream in the night, 
about the princess and one of her shoes; and so he 
asked Johannes to be sure and ask if the princess might 
not have happened to think of one of her shoes. Of 
course that was what he had heard from the troll in the 
mountain, but he wouldn’t tell Johannes about this, he 
only begged him to ask if she had not thought about 
one of her shoes. 


THE TRAVELING COMPANION 67 

“I might just as well ask about that as about any¬ 
thing else,” said Johannes. “What you dreamed might 
very well be true, for I’ve always believed that the 
Lord would help me. But I’ll say good-by to you 
anyway; if I guess wrong I’ll never see you again.” 

Then they kissed each other, and Johannes went into 
the town and to the palace. The entire hall was 
filled with people: the judges sat in their armchairs 
and had eider-down pillows behind their heads, for they 
had a great deal to think about. The old king stood 
up, and wiped his eyes with a white pocket handker¬ 
chief. Now the princess came in. She was much more 
beautiful than yesterday, and bowed to all in the kind¬ 
liest way; but to Johannes she gave her hand, and 
said, “Good morning to you.” 

Now Johannes was to guess what she had thought of. 
Oh, my, how sweetly she looked at him! But as soon as 
she heard him say the single word “shoe,” she turned 
as white as chalk in the face, and trembled all over. 
But that didn’t help her, for he had guessed right. 

My goodness, how happy the old king was! He 
turned a somersault that took your breath away, and all 
the people clapped their hands for him and Johannes, 
who had guessed right the first time! 

The traveling companion beamed with delight, when 
he heard how well matters had gone. But Johannes 
folded his hands and thanked the good God, who cer¬ 
tainly would help him the second and third time. Jhe 
next day he was to guess again. 

The evening passed just like that of yesterday. While 
Johannes slept the traveling companion flew behind 
the princess out to the mountain, and whipped her 
even harder than the time before, for now he had taken 
two bundles of switches. No one saw him, and he heard 
everything. The princess was to think of her glove; and 
he told that to Johannes as if it had been a dream, 


68 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


and in that way it wasn’t any trouble for Johannes 
to guess right. Then there was the greatest happi¬ 
ness in the palace; the whole court turned somersaults, 
just as they had seen the king do the first time; but 
the princess lay on the sofa, and would not say a single 
word. Now, the question was, if Johannes could guess 
right the third time. If he could he was to have the 
beautiful princess and inherit the w T hole kingdom after 
the old king’s death. If he failed, he was to lose his 
life, and the troll would eat his beautiful blue eyes. 

That evening Johannes went early to bed, said his 
prayers, and w r ent quietly to sleep. But the traveling 
companion bound his wings to his back and his sabre by 
his side, took all three switches with him, and flew away 
to the palace. 

It was a pitch dark night. The wind blew so hard 
that the tiles flew off the roofs, and the trees in the 
garden where the skeletons hung bent like reeds* before 
the storm. The lightning flashed out every minute, 
and the thunder rolled just as if it were one peal lasting 
the whole night. Now the window opened, and the prin¬ 
cess flew out. She was as pale as death; but she 
laughed at the bad w r eather, and thought it wasn’t bad 
enough. And her white mantle whirled in the w T ind 
like a great sail; but the traveling companion whipped 
her with the three switches, so that the blood dripped 
down on the ground, and at last she could scarcely 
fly any farther. But at last she came to the moun¬ 
tain. 

“It’s hailing and storming,” she said. “I have never 
been out in such weather.” 

“You can get too much of a good thing,” said the 
troll. Now she told him that Johannes had also guessed 
right the second time; if he did* the same again to-mor¬ 
row, then he had won, and she could never more come 
out to him in the mountain, and she couldn’t go on 
bewitching things, and so she was very sad. “He won’t 


THE TRAVELING COMPANION ' 


69 


do any guessing,” said the troll. “I’ll find something 
he’s never thought of, or he’ll have to*‘be a greater troll 
than I am. But now we’ll have a good time^” And 
then he took hold of both the princess’s hands, and 
they danced about with all the little goblins and will- 
o’-the-wisps that were in the room. The red spiders 
jumped just as merrily up and down the walls;* it 
looked as if the fire flowers were sparkling. The owl 
played the drum, the crickets piped, and the black grass¬ 
hoppers played on the mouth organ. It was a gay 
affair. 

When they had danced long enough the princess had 
to go home, for she might be missed in the palace. The 
troll said he’d go with her, then they would be that 
much longer together. 

Then they flew away into the bad weather, and the 
traveling companion wore his three switches out on their 
backs. Never had the troll been out in such a hail¬ 
storm. In front of the palace he said good-by to the 
princess, and whispered to her at the same time, “Think 
of my head.” But the traveling companion heard it; 
and just at the moment when the princess slipped 
through the window into her bedroom, and the troll was 
about to turn back, he seized him by his long black 
beard, and with his sabre cut off the nasty troll’s head 
just by the shoulders, so that the troll did not even 
see him. The body he threw out into the sea to the 
fishes; but the head he only dipped into the water, and 
then tied it in his silk handkerchief, took it with him 
into the inn, and then lay down to sleep. 

Next morning he gave Johannes the handkerchief 
and told him not to untie it until the princess asked 
him to tell her what she had thought of. 

There were so many people in the great hall of the 
palace that they stood as close together as radishes 
tied together in a bundle. The council sat in the 
chairs with the soft pillows, and the old king had new 


70 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


clothes on; the golden crown and scepter had been 
polished, and everything looked very grand. But the 
princess was very pale, and had a coal-black dress on, 
as if she w r ere going to a funeral. 

“What did I think of?” she asked Johannes. And 
he at once untied the handkerchief, and was himself 
quite frightened when he saw the head of the horrid 
troll. Everybody shuddered, for it was terrible to look 
upon; but the princess sat just like a statue, and could 
not utter a single word. At last she stood up, and 
gave Johannes her hand, for he had guessed right. She 
did not look at any one, only sighed aloud, and said, 
“Now you are my master!—this evening we will hold 
our wedding.” 

“That’s what I like,” said the old king, “that’s the 
way I like to see things.” 

Everybody shouted “Hurrah!” The soldiers’ band 
played music in the streets, the bells rang, and the cake 
women took the black crape off their sugar pigs, for 
now everybody was happy; three oxen roasted whole, 
and stuffed with ducks and fowls, were placed in the 
middle of the market; anybody could cut himself a 
piece; the fountains ran with the best wine; and who¬ 
ever bought a penny cake at a baker’s got six buns 
into the bargain, and the buns had raisins in them. 

In the evening the whole town was illuminated; the 
soldiers fired off cannons, and the boys fired off crack¬ 
ers ; and there was eating and drinking, clinking of 
glasses, and dancing in the palace. All the noble gen¬ 
tlemen and pretty ladies danced with each other, and 
one could hear, a long distance off, how they sang— 

Here are many pretty girls, who all love to dance; 

The Drummer’s March is what they want in order to advance. 
Turn, my pretty maiden, do, till the sole falls from your shoe. 

But the princess was still a witch, of course, and didn’t 
really like Johannes at all, and the traveling companion 


THE TRAVELING COMPANION 


71 


remembered that. He gave Johannes three feathers out 
of the swan’s wings, and a little bottle with a few drops 
in it, and told him that he must put a large tub of water 
before the bridal bed; and when the princess was about to 
get into bed, he should give her a little push, so that she 
should fall into the tub; and then he must duck her 
three times, after he had put in the feathers and poured 
in the drops; she would then be freed from the enchant¬ 
ment, and love him very much. 

Johannes did all that the traveling companion had 
advised him to do. The princess screamed out loudly 
while he ducked her under the water, and struggled 
under his hands in the form of a great coal-black swan 
with fiery eyes. When she came up- the second time 
above the water, the swan was white, with the exception 
of a black ring round her neck. Johannes prayed 
piously to God and let the water for the third time flow 
over the bird, and in the same moment it was again 
changed to the most beautiful princess. She was even 
more lovely than before, and thanked him, with tears 
in her beautiful eyes, that he had freed her from the 
enchantment. 

The next morning the old king came with his whole 
court, and then till late in the day there were many con¬ 
gratulations. Last of all came the traveling companion; 
he had his staff in his hand and his knapsack on his 
back. Johannes kissed him many times, and said he 
mustn’t go away, he must stay with him whose happi¬ 
ness he made. But the traveling companion shook his 
head, and said mildly and kindly: 

“No, now my time is up. I have only paid my debt. 
Do you remember the dead man whom the bad people 
wanted to hurt? You gave all you possessed in order 
that he might have rest in the grave. I am that man.” 

And in the same moment he vanished. 

The wedding festivities lasted a whole month. Jo¬ 
hannes and the princess loved each other ever so much, 


72 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


and the old king lived many pleasant days, and let their 
little children ride on his knees and play with his scepter; 
but Johannes reigned over the whole kingdom. 












E. R 


^ The Little JMermaid 



AR out at sea the water is as blue as the 
petals of the loveliest cornflower, and as 
clear as the purest glass, but it is very 
deep, deeper than the length of the cable 
of any anchor and many church steeples 
would have to be put on top of each other to reach 
from the bottom over the water. Down there the sea 
people live. 

Now you mustn’t for a moment think that down there 
they have only the bare white sand; oh, no, the strangest 
trees and plants grow there, with leaves and stems so 
supple that at the least stir in the water they move as 
if they were alive. All the fishes, big and little, dart 
through the branches just like the birds in the air up 
here. In the very deepest spot lies the castle of the 
sea king. The walls are of coral and the tall, pointed 
windows of the clearest amber, but the roof is made of 
mussel shells that open and close with the flow of the 
water. That looks lovely, for in each shell lie gleaming 

73 

































74 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


pearls, and even a single one of them would be the 
grandest thing in the crown of a queen. 

The sea king down there had been a widower for 
many years, but his old mother kept house for him. 
She was a clever woman, but proud of her royal birth, 
and therefore she wore twelve oysters on her tail; the 
other people of rank could only wear six. Otherwise 
she deserved only great praise, especially because she 
was so fond of her granddaughters, the little sea prin¬ 
cesses. They were six lovely children, but the youngest 
was the most beautiful of them*all; her skin was as clear 
and as fine as a rose leaf, her eyes were as blue as the 
deepest sea, but, like all the rest, she had no feet, for 
her body ended in a fishtail. 

All day long they could play in the castle, down in 
the halls, where living flowers grew out of the walls. 
The large amber windows were opened, and then the 
fishes swam into them, just as the swallows fly in to 
us when we open our windows; but the fishes swam 
straight up to the princesses, ate out of their hands, and 
let themselves be petted. 

Outside the castle was a large garden with fiery red 
and dark blue trees; the fruits gleamed like gold, and the 
flowers like a burning fire; because they always kept 
moving their stalks and leaves. The earth itself was 
the finest sand, but blue as the flame of brimstone. A 
strange blue light lay on everything down there; one 
would have thought oneself high in the air, with the sky 
above and below, rather than at the bottom of the sea. 
During a calm the sun could be seen; it seemed like a 
purple flower, from whose chalice all light streamed 
out. 

Each of the little princesses had her own little plot in 
the garden, where she might dig and plant whatever 
she wanted. One gave her flower bed the form of a 
whale; another thought it better to make hers like a 
little mermaid; but the youngest made hers quite round, 


THE LITTLE MERMAID 


75 


like the sun, and had only flowers which shone as red 
as the sun itself. She was a queer child, quiet and 
thoughtful; and when the other sisters dressed their 
plots up with strange things they had got from wrecked 
ships, she would have nothing except the red flowers 
which resembled the sun, and a pretty marble statue. 
This was a figure of a charming boy, hewn out of white 
clear stone, which had sunk down to the bottom of the 
sea from a wreck. She planted a rose-pink weeping 
willow beside this statue; the tree grew splendidly; it 
hung its fresh branches over the statue down to the 
blue sandy ground, where the shadow showed violet, and 
moved like the branches; it seemed as if the top of the 
tree and the roots were playing at kissing each other. 

There w T as no greater pleasure for her than to hear of 
the world of men above them. The old grandmother 
had to tell all she knew of ships and towns, of men and 
animals. She found it especially strange «and lovely 
that the flowers on earth had fragrance, they had none 
at the bottom of the sea, and that the woods were green, 
and that the fishes which one saw there among the trees 
could sing so loud and clear that it was a pleasure to 
hear them. What the grandmother called fishes were 
the little birds, otherwise they could not have under¬ 
stood her, for they had never seen a bird. 

“When you have completed your fifteenth year,” said 
the grandmother, “you’ll be allowed to rise up out of 
the sea, to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, and to see 
the great ships sailing by. Then you will see forests 
and towns!” 

The next year one of the sisters was fifteen years of 
age, but each of the others was one year younger than 
the next; so that the youngest had still all of five years 
to wait before she could come up from the bottom of the 
sea, and find out how our world looked. But one prom¬ 
ised to tell the others what she had seen and what she 
had thought the most beautiful on the first day of her 


76 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


visit; for their grandmother didn’t tell them enough— 
there were so many things they wanted to know about. 

None was so full of longing as the youngest—just 
that one who had the longest time to wait, and who was 
always quiet and thoughtful. Many a night she stood 
by the open window, and looked up through the dark 
blue water at the fishes splashing w T ith their fins and 
tails. Moon and stars she could see; of course they 
shone faintly, but through the water they looked much 
larger than they do to us. When something like a black 
cloud passed among them, she knew that it was either 
a whale swimming over her head, or a ship with many 
people: they certainly did not think that a lovely little 
mermaid was standing down below stretching up h&r 
white hands toward the keel of their ship. 

Now the eldest princess was fifteen years old, and 
might rise up to the surface of the sea. 

When she came back, she had a hundred things to tell 
—but the nicest of all, she said, was to lie in the moon¬ 
shine on a sandbank in the quiet sea, and to see the 
large town close to the coast, where the lights twinkled 
like a hundred stars, and to hear the music and the noise 
and clamor of carriages and men, to see the many 
church steeples, and to hear the ringing of the bells. 
Just because she couldn’t get up there, she longed for 
them more than for anything else. 

Oh, how the youngest sister listened; and afterward 
when she stood at the open window and looked up through 
the dark blue water, she thought of the great city with 
all its bustle and noise; and then she thought she could 
hear the church bells ringing, even down to the depth 
where she was. 

In the following year, the second sister was allowed 
to rise up through the water and to swim wherever she 
pleased. She rose up just as the sun was setting; and 
that sight seemed to her the most beautiful. The whole 
sky had looked like gold, she said, and the clouds—well. 



THE LITTLE MERMAID 77 

their loveliness was more than she could describe. Red 
and violet they sailed away above her, but, far swifter 
than they, a flight of wild swans flew like a long white 
veil over the w'ater in the path of the sun. She 
swam toward them; but the sun sank, and the rose light 
quenched on the sea and in the clouds. 

In the following year the next sister went up. She 
was the boldest of them all, and therefore she swam up 
a broad stream that ran to the sea. She saw lovely 
green hills clothed with vines; castles and farms peeped 
out from fine w r oods; she heard how all the birds sang; 
and the sun shone so warm that she often had to 
dive under the water to cool her burning face. In a 
little bay she found a whole swarm of little human 
children. They were quite naked, and splashed about 
in the water; she wanted to play with them, but they 
ran away scared, and a little black animal came—it was 
a dog, but she had never seen a dog—and it barked at 
her so terribly that she became frightened, and took 
to the open sea. But she could never forget the fine 
woods, the green hills, and the pretty children, who could 
swim in the water though they had no fishtails. 

The fourth sister was not so bold: she stayed in the 
midst of the stormy sea, and declared that just there it 
was most beautiful. One could see for many miles 
around, and the sky above looked like a bell of glass. 
She had seen ships, but only in the far distance—they 
looked like seagulls; and the funny dolphins had thrown 
somersaults, and the big whales spouted out water from 
their nostrils, so that it looked like hundreds of foun¬ 
tains all around. 

Now came the turn of the fifth sister. Her birthday 
came in the wunter, and so she saw what the others had 
not seen the first time. The sea looked quite green, and 
large icebergs floated all around; every one looked like 
a pearl, she said, and still they were much taller than 
the church steeples built by men. They came in the 




78 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


strangest shapes and sparkled like diamonds. She had 
seated herself on one of the largest, and all the sailing 
ships tacked around, frightened, to get out of the way 
of where she sat and let the wind play with her long 
hair. But in the evening clouds covered the sky, it 
thundered and lightened, and the black waves lifted the 
great ice blocks high up, and let them shine in the big 
flashes. On all the ships the sails were reefed, and there 
was fear and anguish. But she sat quietly on her 
floating iceberg, and saw the blue lightning strike zigzag 
into the sea. 

Each of the sisters was delighted with the new and 
beautiful sights she saw when she first came out of the 
water; but since they now were allowed, as grown-up 
girls, to go whenever they liked, they didn’t really care 
to. They wished themselves back again, and after about 
a month thev said it was best of all down below, for 
there one felt so cozily at home. 

Many an evening hour the five sisters linked arms 
and rose up in a row. over the water. They had lovely 
voices, more charming than any mortal could have; and 
when a storm was approaching, so that they might ex¬ 
pect that ships would go down, they swam in front of 
the ships and sang lovely songs, about how beautiful it 
was at the bottom of the sea, and asked the sailors not 
to be afraid to come down. But they couldn’t under¬ 
stand the words, and they thought it was the storm; and 
they did not see the beauty below, for if the ships sank 
they were drowned, and came as corpses to the sea 
king’s palace. 

When the sisters rose up, arm in arm, in the evening 
through the water, the little sister stood all alone look¬ 
ing after them; and she felt as if she must cry, but the 
mermaid has no tears, and so she suffers all the more. 

“Oh, if I were only fifteen years old!” said she. “I 
know I shall love the world up there very much, and the 
people who live and dwell there.” 


THE LITTLE MERMAID 


79 


At last she was really fifteen years old. 

44 Well, now you’re off our hands,” said the grand¬ 
mother, the old dowager queen. 44 Come, let me dress 
30U up like your sisters.” 

And she put a wreath of white lilies in the girl’s hair, 
but each petal in the flower was half a pearl; and the 
old lady let eight big oysters pinch on to the princess’s 
tail, in token of her high rank. 

“But that hurts so!” said the little mermaid. “Well, 
you can’t have both style and comfort,” said the old lady. 

Oh, how glad she would have been to shake off all the 
finery and to lay aside the heavy wreath! Her red 
flowers in the garden were much more becoming, but 
she was afraid to change. “Good-by!” she said, and 
then she rose, light and clear as a bubble, up through 
the water. 

The sun had just set when she lifted her head above 
the sea, but all the clouds still shone like roses and gold, 
and in the pale pink sky the evening star gleamed bright 
and beautiful. The air was mild and fresh and the sea 
without a ripple. There lay a great ship with three 
masts; one single sail only was set, for not a breeze 
stirred, and around in the tackling and on the yards 
sat the sailors. There was music and singing, and as 
the evening closed in, hundreds of colored lanterns were 
lighted, and it looked as if the flags of every nation 
were waving in the air. The little mermaid swam 
straight to the cabin window, and each time the sea 
lifted her up she could look through the panes, which 
were clear as crystal, and see many people standing 
dressed in their best. But the handsomest of all was 
the young prince with the great black eyes; he couldn’t 
be much more than sixteen years old; it was his birth¬ 
day, and therefore they were having this fine party. 
The sailors were dancing on deck; and when the young 
prince came out, more than a hundred rockets rose into 
the air; they shone as bright as dajq so that the little 


80 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


mermaid was almost frightened, and dived under the 
water; but soon she put out her head again, and then it 
seemed just as if all the stars of heaven were falling 
down on her. She had never seen such fireworks. Big 
suns whirled around, splendid fire fishes swung up into 
the blue air, and everything was mirrored in the clear, 
still sea. The ship itself was so brightly lit up that 
every little rope could be seen, and the people even 
more clearly. Oh, how handsome the young prince was! 
And he pressed the people’s hands and smiled, while 
the music rang out in the lovely night. 

It became late; but the little mermaid could not turn 
her eyes from the ship and from the beautiful prince. 
The colored lanterns were put out, rockets no more 
flew into the air, and no more cannons were fired; but 
away down in the deep the sea murmured and muttered; 
and she sat on the water, swaying up and down, so that 
she could look into the cabin. But as the ship went 
faster, one sail after another was spread. And now 
the waves rose higher, big clouds came up, and there 
was lightning in the distance. Oh! it was going to be 
terrible weather, therefore the sailors furled the sails. 
Swiftly rocking, the big ship flew over the wild sea; 
the water rose up like great black mountains, ready 
to fall on the masts; but like a swan the ship ducked 
down among the high waves and was lifted again on the 
towering waters. The little mermaid just thought this 
was an amusing trip, but the sailors didn’t think so. 
The ship groaned and creaked; the thick planks were 
bent by the heavy blows the sea struck against the ship; 
the mainmast snapped in two like a thin reed; and the 
ship lay over on her side, while the water rushed into the 
hold. Now the little mermaid saw that the people were 
in danger; she herself had to take care to avoid the 
beams and bits of the ship which were floating about 
on the water. One moment it was so pitch dark that 
she couldn’t see a thing, but when it lightened it was 



glfjll 


wmm 
























THE LITTLE MERMAID 


81 


so bright that she could tell every one on board. Every 
one was doing the best he could for himself. She looked 
particularly for the young prince, and when the ship 
went to pieces she saw him sink into the deep sea. At 
first she was very glad, for now he would come down 
to her. But then she remembered that people could 
not live in the water, and that when he got down to her 
father’s palace he would certainly be dead. No, he 
must not die: so she swam around among the drifting 
beams and planks, quite forgetting that one of them 
might have crushed her. Diving down deep under the 
w'ater, she again rose high up among the waves, and 
in this way she at last came to the prince, who could 
scarcely swim longer in that stormy sea. His arms 
and legs began to fail him, his beautiful eyes closed, 
and he would have died if the little mermaid hadn’t 
come. She held his head up over the water, and then 
let the waves carry her and him wherever they wanted to. 

In the morning the bad weather was over. There 
wasn’t a stick left of the ship. The sun came up 
red and shining out of the water; it was as if its beams 
brought back life to the cheeks of the prince, but his 
eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed his high 
fair forehead and put back his wet hair, and he seemed 
to her to be like the marble statue in her little garden; 
she kissed him again and hoped that he might live. 

Now she saw dry land in front of her—high blue 
mountains, on whose tops the white snow gleamed as 
if swans were lying there. Down on the coast were 
lovely green woods, and there was a building she could 
not tell whether it was a church or a convent—but a 
building it was. In its garden grew orange and lemon 
trees, and high palms waved in front of the gate. The 
sea formed a little bay there; it was a still calm, but 
very deep. Straight toward the rock where the fine 
white sand had been cast up, she swam with the hand- 


82 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


some prince, and laid him on the sand, taking especial 
care that his head was raised in the warm sunshine. 

Now all the bells rang in the big white building, and 
many young girls came walking through the garden. 
Then the little mermaid swam farther out between some 
high stones that rose out of the water, laid some sea 
foam on her hair and neck, so that no one could see 
her little face, and then she watched to see who would 
come to the poor prince. 

In a short time a young girl went that way. She 
seemed to be quite frightened, but only for a moment; 
then she brought more people, and the sea maid saw that 
the prince came back to life and that he smiled at 
everybod3 T around him. But he didn’t smile in her di¬ 
rection ; he couldn’t know, of course, that she had saved 
him. And she felt very sorrowful; and when he was 
taken away into the big building, she dived mourn¬ 
fully under the water and returned to her father’s 
palace. 

She had always been gentle and thoughtful, but now 
she became much more so. Her sisters asked her what 
she had seen for the first time up there, but she wouldn’t 
tell them anything. 

Many an evening and many a morning she w r ent up 
to the 'place where she had left the prince. She saw 
how the fruits of the garden grew ripe and were gath¬ 
ered ; she saw how the snow melted on the high moun¬ 
tain; but she did not see the prince, and so she always 
returned home more sorrowful still. Then her only 
comfort was to sit in her little garden, and to put her 
arms around the beautiful marble statue that looked like 
the prince; but she didn’t take care of her flowers; they 
grew like a wilderness over the paths, and trailed their 
long leaves and stalks up into the tree branches, so 
that it w r as quite dark there. 

At last she couldn’t stand it any longer, and told 
everything to one of her sisters, and then all the others 


THE LITTLE MERMAID 


83 


heard of it too; but nobody knew of it except these 
and a few other mermaids who didn’t say a thing about 
it except to their best friends. One of these knew who 
the prince was; she, too, had seen the festival on board 
the ship; and she knew where he came from and where 
his kingdom lay. 

‘‘Come, little sister!” said the other princesses; and, 
linking their arms together, they rose up in a long row 
out of the sea, at the place where they knew the prince’s 
palace stood. 

This palace was built of a pale yellow, glistening 
stone, with great marble staircases, one of which went 
right down into the sea. Over the roof rose splendid 
gilt cupolas, and between the pillars w T hich surrounded 
the whole building stood marble statues which looked 
as if they were alive. Through the clear glass in the 
tall windows one looked into the most gorgeous halls, 
where costly silk curtains and tapestries were hung, and 
all the w'alls were decked with splendid pictures, so that 
it was a perfect delight to look at them. In the middle 
of the largest hall a big fountain splashed; its jets 
shot high up toward the glass dome in the ceiling, 
through which the sun shone down upon the water and 
on the lovely plants growing in the great basin. 

Now she knew where he lived, and many an evening 
and many a night she spent there on the water. She 
swam far closer to the land than any of the others 
would have dared; indeed, she even went up the narrow 
canal under the splendid marble balcony, which threw 
a long shadow on the water. Here she sat and watched 
the young prince, who thought himself all alone in the 
bright moonlight. 

Many an evening she saw him sailing with music in 
his fine boat where flags were waving; she peeped up 
through the green reeds, and when the wind caught her 
silvery-white veil, and any one saw it, they thought it 
was a white swan lifting its wings. 


84 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

Many a night when the fishermen lay with torches 
on the sea she heard them tell much good of the young 
prince; and she was happy that she had saved his life 
when he was drifting half dead on the waves ; she thought 
how quietly his head had rested on her bosom, and how 
tenderly she had kissed him; but he knew nothing of 
it, and could not even dream of her. 

More and more she began to love human beings, and 
more and more she w r anted to rise up among them. Their 
world seemed far larger than her own. For they could 
fly over the sea in ships, and mount up the high hills 
far above the clouds, and the lands they owned stretched 
out in v T oods and fields farther than her eyes could 
reach. There was so much she w r anted to know, but 
her sisters couldn’t answer all her questions; therefore 
she asked the old grandmother; and she was w r ell ac¬ 
quainted with the “higher world” as she very rightly 
called the countries above the sea. 

“If human beings are not drowned,” asked the little 
mermaid, “can they live forever? Don’t they die as 
we die dow T n here in the sea?” 

“Yes,” said the old lady. “They, too, must die, and 
their life is even shorter than ours. We can live to be 
three hundred years old, but w T hen we no longer exist 
here, we become only foam on the water, and have not 
even a grave down here among those w T e love. We 
have no immortal soul; we never receive another life; 
we are like the green rushes that once cut through can 
never be green again. But human beings have a soul 
which lives forever, lives even after the body has turned 
to earth; it rises through the bright air up to all the 
shining stars. Just as we rise out of the water and 
see the human countries, so they rise up to lovely, un¬ 
known places, never to be seen by us.” 

“Why didn’t we get an immortal soul?” asked the 
little mermaid sorrowfully. “I would gladly give all 
the hundreds of years I have to live to be a human 


THE LITTLE MERMAID 


85 


being only for one day, and later to come to the world 
of heaven.” 

“You mustn’t be thinking about that,” said the old 
lady. “We’re .much happier and much better off than 
the people up there.” 

“I must die and float as foam on the sea, and 
not hear the music of the waves, and not see the pretty 
flowers and the red sun? Can I not do anything to* win 
an immortal soul!” 

“No!” answered the grandmother. “Only if a man 
were to love you so that you should be more to him than 
father or mother; if he should cling to you with his 
every thought and with all his love, and let the priest 
lay his right hand in yours with a promise of faith¬ 
fulness here and in all eternity, then his soul would 
flow into your body, and you would receive a share of 
the happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to 
you and still keep his own. But that can never come 
to pass. The thing that’s so nice here in the sea— 
the fishtail—they would consider ugly on the earth: 
they don’t understand it; to be called beautiful there one 
must have two clumsy supports which they call legs.” 

Then the little mermaid sighed, and looked mourn¬ 
fully at her fishtail. 

“Let’s be happy!” said the old lady. “Let’s skip 
and jump in the three hundred years we have to live. 
That’s more than long enough, then afterward we can 
rest all the merrier in our graves. This evening we 
shall have a court ball.” 

Such pomp as that was is never seen on earth. The 
walls and the ceiling of the big ballroom were of thick 
but transparent glass. Several hundreds of huge 
shells, rose pink and grass green, stood on each side in 
rows, filled with a blue fire which lit up the whole 
hall and shone through the walls, so that the sea outside 
was quite lit up; one could see all the innumerable 
fishes, big and small, swimming toward the glass walls; 


86 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


on some the scales gleamed purple, while in others they 
shone like silver and gold. Through the middle of the 
hall flowed a broad stream, and on this the mermen 
and mermaids danced to their own lovely songs. The 
people of the earth haven’t such beautiful voices. The 
little mermaid sang most sweetly of all, and everybody 
applauded her, and for a moment she felt joy in her 
heart, for she knew she had the loveliest voice of all in 
the sea or on the earth. But soon she thought again of 
the world above her; she could not forget the charming 
prince, or her sorrow at not having an immortal soul 
like his. Therefore she crept out of her father’s pal¬ 
ace, and while song and gaiety went on inside, she 
sat sadly in her little garden. Then she heard the 
bugle horn sounding through the waters, and thought, 
“Now he must be sailing above, he whom I love more 
than father or mother, he on whom my wishes hang, and 
in whose hand I should like to lay my life’s happiness. 
I will dare everything to win him and an immortal soul. 
While my sisters dance in there in my father’s palace, 
I will go to the sea witch. I’ve always been so fright¬ 
ened of her, but perhaps she can counsel and help 
me.” 

Now the little mermaid went out of her garden to the 
roaring whirlpools behind which the sea witch lived. 
She had never gone that way before. No flowers grew 
there, no sea grass; only the bare gray sand stretched 
out toward the whirlpools, where the water rushed 
round like roaring mill wheels and tore down everything 
it seized into the deep. In between these crushing 
wdiirls she had to walk to get into the domain of the sea 
witch; and for a long way there w^as no other road ex¬ 
cept one w T hich led over warm bubbling mud: this the 
watch called her peat bog. Behind it lay her house 
in the midst of a weird wood, in which all the trees 
and bushes were polypes—half animals, half plants. 
They looked like hundred-headed snakes growing up out 



THE LITTLE MERMAID 


87 


of the earth. All the branches were long slimy arms, 
with fingers like supple worms, and they moved joint by 
joint from the root to the farthest point; all that they 
could seize on in the w r ater they held fast and never again 
let it go. The little mermaid stopped in front of them 
quite frightened; her heart beat with fear, and she 
was nearly turning back; but then she thought of the 
prince and the human soul, and her courage came back 
again. She bound her long fluttering hair closely around 
her head, so that the polypes might not seize it. She 
put her hands together on her breast, and then shot 
forward as a fish shoots through the water among the 
hideous polypes, who stretched out their supple arms and 
fingers after her. She saw that each of them held some¬ 
thing it had seized with hundreds of little arms, like 
strong iron bands. People who had perished at sea 
and had sunk deep down peered out as white skeletons 
from the arms of the polypes; ships’ rudders and chests 
they also held fast, and skeletons of land animals, and 
a little mermaid whom they had caught and strangled; 
and this seemed to her the most terrible of all. 

Now she came to a big slimy place in the wood, 
where fat water snakes rolled about, showing their 
uglv white and yellow bodies. In the middle of this 
place was a house built of white bones of shipwrecked 
men; there sat the sea witch feeding a toad out of 
her mouth, just as a person might feed a little canary 
bird with sugar. The horrid fat water snakes she called 
her little chickens and let them roll around on her large 
swampy breast. 

“I know what you want,” said the sea witch. “It is 
stupid of you, but you shall have your way, for it will 
get you in trouble, my little princess. You want to 
get rid of your fishtail, and to get two stumps in¬ 
stead of it, like those the people of the earth walk 
with, so that the young prince may fall in love with 
you, and you may get him and an immortal soul. And 


88 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


with this the witch laughed loudly and disagreeably, 
so that the toad and the water snakes tumbled down 
to the ground, where they crawled about. “You come 
just in time,” said the witch, “to-morrow at the rise of 
the sun I could not help you until another year had gone 
by. I will make you a draught, w T ith which you must 
swim to land to-morrow before the sun rises, and seat 
yourself there and drink it; then your tail will part 
in two and shrink in and become what the people of the 
earth call pretty legs, but it will hurt you—it will seem 
as if you were cut with a sharp sword. All who see 
you will say you are the loveliest daughter of man they 
ever saw. You will keep your graceful walk; no 
dancer will be able to move so lightly as you; but every 
step you take will be as if you trod upon sharp knives, 
and as if your blood must flow. If you will bear all 
this, I can help you.” 

“Yes!” said the little mermaid, with a trembling 
voice; and she thought of the prince and the immortal 
soul. 

“But, remember,” said the witch, “when you have 
once received a human form, you can never be a mer¬ 
maid again; you can never go down through the water 
to your sisters or to your father’s palace; and if you 
do not win the prince’s love, so that he forgets father 
and mother for your sake, clings to you with every 
thought, and tells the priest to join your hands, you 
will not receive an immortal soul. On the first morn¬ 
ing after he has married another, your heart will break 
and you will become foam on the water.” 

“I will do it,” said the little mermaid; but she became 
as pale as death. 

“But you must pay me, too,” said the witch; “and 
it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the finest voice 
of all here at the bottom of the sea; with that you think 
to enchant him; but this voice you must give to me. The 
best thing you own I will have for my costly draught! 


THE LITTLE MERMAID 89 

For I must give you my own blood in it, so that the 
draught may be sharp as a two-edged sword.” 

But if you take away my voice,” said the little mer¬ 
maid, “what will I have?” 

‘Your beautiful form,” replied the witch, “your 
graceful walk, and your eloquent eyes: with* those you 
can surely bewitch a human heart. Well, have you 
lost your courage? Put out your little tongue, and 
then I will cut it off for my payment, and then you 
shall have the strong draught.” 

“Let it be so,” said the little mermaid. 

And the witch put on her pot to* brew the draught. 

“Cleanliness is a good thing,” said she; and she 
scoured out the pot with the snakes, which she tied up 
in a big knot; then she scratched her breast, and let 
her black blood drop into it. The steam rose up in 
the strangest forms, enough to frighten and terrify one. 
Every moment the witch threw something else into the 
pot; and when it boiled hard it was like the weeping 
of crocodiles. At last the draught was ready. It looked 
like the purest water. 

“There you have it,” said the witch. 

And she cut off the little mermaid’s tongue, so that 
now she was dumb, and could neither sing nor speak. 

“If the polypes should lay hold of you when you go 
back through my forest,” said the witch, “just throw a 
single drop of this drink on them, and their arms and 
fingers will fly into a thousand pieces.” But the little 
mermaid didn’t need to do this: the polypes drew back 
in terror when they saw the shining drink, that gleamed 
in her hand as if it w r ere a twinkling star. In this 
way she soon passed through the forest, the bog, and 
the roaring whirlpools. 

She could see her father’s palace. The torches were 
extinguished in the big ballroom, and they were cer¬ 
tainly sleeping inside, but she did not dare to go to 
them, now that she was dumb and was about to leave 


90 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


them forever. She felt as if her heart would break with 
sorrow. She crept into the garden, took a flower from 
each of her sisters’ flower beds, hlew a thousand kisses 
toward the palace, and rose up through the dark 
blue sea. 

The sun had not }^et risen when she saw the prince’s 
castle and mounted the splendid marble staircase. The 
moon shone beautifully clear. The little mermaid drank 
the sharp burning draught, and it seemed as if a two- 
edged sword went through her delicate body. She 
fainted from it, and lay as if she were dead. When 
the sun shone out over the sea she woke up, and felt 
a sharp pain; but just before her stood the handsome 
young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes on her, 
so that she cast down her own, and then she saw that 
her fishtail was gone, and that she had the prettiest 
pair of white legs a little girl could have. But she had 
no clothes, so she wrapped herself in her long hair. The 
prince asked who she was and how she had come there; 
and she looked at him mildly, but very sadly, with 
her dark blue eyes, for she could not speak. Then 
he took her by the hand, and led her into the castle. 
Each step she took was, as the witch had told her, 
as if she were treading on pointed needles and sharp 
knives, but she bore it gladly. At the prince’s right 
hand she moved on, light as a bubble, and he, like 
all the rest, was astonished at her graceful swaying 
movements. 

Now she got costly clothes of silk and silken mus¬ 
lins. In the castle she was the most beautiful of all; 
but she was dumb, and could neither sing nor speak. 
Lovely slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped for¬ 
ward and sang before the prince and his royal parents; 
one sang more charmingly than all the rest, and the 
prince smiled at her and clapped his hands. Then 
the little mermaid was sad; she knew that she herself 
had sung far more sweetly, and thought: 


THE LITTLE MERMAID 


91 


“Oh! if only he could know that I have given away 
my voice forever to be with him.” 

Now the slaves danced pretty waving dances to the 
loveliest music; then the little mermaid lifted her beau¬ 
tiful white arms, stood on the tips of her toes, and 
glided dancing over the floor as no one had yet danced. 
At each movement her beauty was seen more clearly, and 
her eyes spoke straighter to the heart than the songs 
of the slaves. 

All were delighted, and especially the prince, who 
called her his little foundling; and she danced again and 
again, although every time she touched the earth it 
seemed as if she were treading on sharp knives. The 
prince said that she should always stay with him, and 
she received permission to sleep on a velvet cushion 
before his door. 

He had a page’s dress made for her, so that she 
could follow him on horseback. They rode through 
the fragrant woods, where the green boughs swept their 
shoulders and the little birds sang in the fresh leaves. 
She climbed with the prince up the high mountains, 
and although her delicate feet bled so that even the 
others could see it, she laughed at it herself, and 
followed him until they saw the clouds sailing 
beneath them like a flock of birds traveling to distant 
lands. 

At home in the prince’s castle, when the others slept 
at night, she went out on the broad marble steps. It 
cooled her burning feet to stand in the cold sea water, 
and then she thought of those in the deep. 

Once, in the nighttime, her sisters came arm in arm. 
They sang sadly as they swam over the water; and she 
beckoned to them, and they recognized her, and told 
her how she had grieved them all. Then they visited 
her every night; and once she saw far out her old 
grandmother, who had not been above the surface for 
many years, and the sea king with his crown on his 


92 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


head. They stretched out their hands toward her, 
but did not venture so near the land as her sisters. 

Day by day the prince grew more fond of her. He 
loved her as one loves a dear, good child, but it never 
came into his head to make her his wife; and yet she 
must become his wife, or she would not receive an im¬ 
mortal soul, and would have to become foam on the 
sea on his wedding morning. 

“Don’t you like me better than anybody else?” the 
eyes of the little mermaid seemed to say, when he took 
her in his arms and kissed her fair forehead. 

“Y r es, you are dearest to me!” said the prince, “for 
you have the best heart of them all. You are the most 
devoted to me, and you look like a young girl whom I 
once saw, but whom I certainly shall not find again. I 
was on board a ship which was wrecked. The waves 
threw me ashore near a holy temple, where several 
young girls performed the service. The youngest of 
them found me by the shore and saved my life. I only 
saw her twice: she was the only one in the world I could 
love; but you are so like her you almost take the place 
of her image in my soul. She belongs to the holy 
temple, and therefore my good fortune has sent you 
to me. We will never part!” 

“Ah! he does not know that I saved his life,” thought 
the little mermaid. “I carried him over the sea to the 
wood where the temple stands. I sat there under the 
foam and looked to see if any one would come. I saw 
the beautiful girl whom he loves better than me.” And 
the mermaid sighed deeply—she could not weep. “The 
girl belongs to the holy temple,” he has said, “and will 
never come out into the world—they -will meet no more. 
I am with him and see him every day; I will cherish 
him, love him, give up my life for him.” 

But now they said that the prince was to marry, and 
that the beautiful daughter of a neighboring king 
was to be his wife, and that was why so splendid a 


THE LITTLE MERMAID 


93 


ship was being fitted out. The story was, that the 
prince traveled to visit the land of the neighboring 
king, but that it was really done that he might see the 
king’s daughter. A great company was to go with 
him. The little mermaid shook her head and smiled; 
she knew the prince’s thoughts far better than any of 
the others. 

“I must travel,” he had said to her. “I must see the 
beautiful princess: my parents desire it, but they do- not 
wish to force me to bring her home as my bride.. I can¬ 
not love her. She is not like the beautiful maiden in 
the temple, whom you are like. If I were to* choose a 
bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling 
with the speaking eyes.” 

And he kissed her red lips and played with her long 
hair, and laid his head on her heart, so that it dreamed 
of happiness and of an immortal soul. 

“You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child?” 
said he when they stood on the splendid ship which 
was to carry him to the country of the neighboring 
king; and he told her of storm and calm, of strange 
fishes in the deep, and of what the divers had seen there. 
And she smiled at his tales, for she knew better than 
any one what there was at the bottom of the sea. 

In the moon-clear night, when all were asleep, except 
the steersman who stood by the helm, she sat on the 
side of the ship gazing down through the clear water. 
She thought she saw her father’s palace. High on 
the battlements stood her old grandmother, with the 
silver crown on her head, and looked through the rush¬ 
ing tide up at the vessel’s keel. Then her sisters came 
up over the w^ater, and looked mournfully at her and 
wrung their white hands. She waved at them, smiled, 
and wished to tell them that she was well and happy; 
but the cabin boy came near her, and her sisters dived 
down, so that he kept on thinking that the white he 
had seen was foam on the water. 


94 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


The next morning* the ship sailed into the harbor of 
the neighboring king’s splendid city. All the church 
bells were ringing, and from the high towers the trum¬ 
pets were blown, while the soldiers stood with flying 
colors and flashing bayonets. Each day brought some 
festivity with it; balls and entertainments followed one 
another; but the princess was not yet there. People 
said she was being educated in a holy temple far away, 
where she was learning every royal virtue. At last she 
arrived. 

The little mermaid was anxious to see the beauty of 
the princess, and she had to acknowledge it. A love¬ 
lier being she had never seen. The princess’s skin 
was pure and clear, and behind the long dark eyelashes 
smiled a pair of faithful dark blue eyes. 

“It is you,” said the prince, “you who saved me 
when I lay like a corpse on the shore!” and he folded 
his blushing bride to his heart. “Oh, I am too, too 
happy!” he said to the little mermaid. “What I never 
dared to hope is fulfilled. You will rejoice at my 
happiness, for you are the most devoted to me of them 
all!” 

And the little mermaid kissed his hand; and it seemed 
already to her as if her heart was broken, for his wed¬ 
ding morning was to bring death to her, and change 
her into foam on the sea. 

All the church bells were ringing, and heralds rode 
about the streets announcing the betrothal. On every 
altar fragrant oil was burning in costly silver lamps. 
The priests swung their censers, and bride and bride¬ 
groom laid hand in hand, and received the bishop’s 
blessing. In silk and gold the little mermaid held up 
the bride’s train; but her ears heard nothing of the 
festive music, her eyes did not see the holy ceremony; 
she thought of the night of her death, and of all she had 
lost in this world. 

On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on 


THE LITTLE MERMAID 95 

hoard the ship. The cannon roared, all the flags waved; 
m the midst of the ship a costly tent of gold and pur¬ 
ple, with the most beautiful cushions, had been set up, 
and there the married pair were to sleep in the cool 
still night. 

The sails swelled in the wind and the ship glided 
smoothly and lightly over the clear sea. When it grew 
dark, colored lamps were lighted and the sailors danced 
lively dances on deck. The little sea maid thought of 
the first time when she had risen up out of the sea, 
and had seen the same splendor and joy, and she 
whirled into the dance, hovering as the swallow hovers 
when it is pursued; and all shouted their admiration, 
never had she danced so marvelously. Her delicate 
feet were cut as if with* sharp knives, but she did not 
feel it, for in her heart was a crueler cut. She knew 
this was the last evening on which she might see him 
for whom she had left her people and her home, had 
given up her beautiful voice, and had suffered un¬ 
heard-of pains every day, while he was utterly uncon¬ 
scious of all. It was the last evening she might breathe 
the same air with him, and see the starry sky and the 
deep sea; and everlasting night without thought or 
dream awaited her, for she had no soul, and could 
win none. And everything was merriment and gladness 
on the ship till past midnight, and she laughed and 
danced with thoughts of death in her heart. The 
prince kissed his beautiful bride, and she played with 
his black hair, and hand in hand they went to rest in 
the splendid tent. 

It became quiet on the ship; only the helmsman stood 
by the helm, and the little mermaid leaned her white 
arms on the bulwark and looked out toward the east 
for the morning dawn—the first ray, she knew, would 
kill her. Then she saw her sisters rising out of the 
sea; they were pale, like herself; their long beautiful 
hair no longer fluttered in the wind—it had been cut olf. 



9G 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“We have given it to the witch, that she might bring 
you help, so that you may not die to-night. She has 
given us a knife; here it is—look! how sharp! Before 
the sun rises you must thrust it into the heart of the 
prince, and when the warm blood falls on your feet they 
will grow together again into a fishtail, and you will 
become a mermaid again, and come back to us, and live 
for three hundred years before you become dead salt sea 
foam. Hurry! He or you must die before the sun 
rises! Our old grandmother mourns so that her white 
hair has fallen off, as ours did under the witch’s scis¬ 
sors. Kill the prince and come back! Hurry! Do 
you see that red streak in the sky? In a few minutes 
the sun will rise, and you must die!” 

And they gave a strange, deep sigh, and sank into 
the waves. 

The little mermaid drew "back the purple curtain from 
the tent, and saw the beautiful-bride sleeping with her 
head on the prince’s breast; and she bent down and 
kissed his brow, and looked up to the sky where the 
morning red was gleaming brighter and brighter; then 
she looked at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes 
on the prince, who in his sleep murmured his bride’s 
name. Only she was in his thoughts, and the knife 
trembled in the mermaid’s hands. But then she flung 
it far away into the waves—they gleamed red where 
it fell, and it seemed as if drops of blood trickled up 
out of the water. Once more she looked with half- 
extinguished eyes upon the prince; then she threw her¬ 
self from the ship into the sea, and felt her body dis¬ 
solving into foam. 

Now the sun rose up out of the sea. The rays fell 
mild and warm on the cold sea foam, and the little mer¬ 
maid felt nothing of death. She saw the bright sun, 
and over her head hovered hundreds of lovely trans¬ 
parent beings; through them she could see the white 
sails of the ship and the red clouds of the sky; their 


THE LITTLE MERMAID 


97 


speech was melody, but so spiritual that no human ear 
could hear it, just as no earthly eye could see them; 
without wdngs they floated through the air. The little 
mermaid found that she had a body like these, and was 
rising more and more out of the foam. 

“To whom am I coming?” she asked, and her voice 
sounded like that of the other beings, so spiritual, that 
no earthly music could be compared to it. 

“To the daughters of the air!” answered the others. 
“A mermaid has no immortal soul, and can never gain 
one, unless she wins the love of a mortal. Her eternal 
existence depends on the power of another. The daugh¬ 
ters of the air have likewise no immortal soul, but they 
can make themselves one through good deeds. We fly 
to the hot countries, where the close, pestilent air kills 
men, and there we bring coolness. We spread the 
fragrance of the flowers through the air, and send re¬ 
freshment and health. After we have striven for three 



E.P. 


hundred years to do all the good we can, we receive an 
immortal soul and take part in the eternal happiness 
of men. You, poor little mermaid; have striven with 
your whole heart after the same things; you have suf¬ 
fered and endured; now you can raise yourself by good 







98 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


deeds to the world of the spirits of the air, and can gain 
an immortal soul after three hundred years.” 

And the little mermaid lifted her bright arms toward 
God’s sun, and for the first time she felt tears. On the 
ship there was again life and noise. She saw the prince 
and his lovely bride searching for her; then they looked 
mournfully at the bubbling foam, as if they knew that 
she had thrown herself into the waves. Invisible, she 
kissed the forehead of the bride, smiled to the prince, and 
mounted with the other children of the air on the rosy 
cloud which floated through the air. 

“After three hundred vears we shall thus float into 
paradise!” 

“And we may even get there sooner,” whispered one. 
“Invisibly we float into the houses of men where chil¬ 
dren are, and for every day on which we find a good 
child that brings joy to its parents and deserves their 
love, our time of trial is shortened. The child does 
not know when we fly through the room; and when 
we smile with joy over the child, a year is counted off 
from the three hundred; but when we see a naughty or 
a wicked child, we shed tears of grief, and for every tear 
a day is added to our time of trial.” 




G-4V ’ The JE,rnj)eror;s 

Jlejv Qo£be,s 



ANY years ago there lived an emperor 
who w r as so enormously fond of nice new 
clothes that he spent all his money try¬ 
ing to look really dressed up. He didn’t 
care for his soldiers, didn’t care for the 
theater, didn’t care for driving in the park except for 
the chance to show off his new clothes. He had a coat 
for every hour of the day, and just as people say about 
a king, “He is in council,” so here they always said, 
“The emperor is in the wardrobe.” 

The big city where he lived was a very gay place. 
Crowds of visitors came every day, and one day two 
swindlers came. They pretended they were weavers and 
said they knew how to weave the most gorgeous cloth 
you could imagine. Not only were their colors and 
patterns, they said, remarkably beautiful, but the clothes 

99 



































100 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


made of the stuff had the strange property that they 
became invisible to any one who was unfit for the office 
he held, or who was stupider than the law allowed. 

“Those would be nice clothes!” thought the emperor. 
“If I wore them, I could find out what men in my 
empire are not fit for the places they have; I could 
tell the clever from the stupid. Yes, that cloth must 
be woven for me at once!” 

And he gave the two swindlers a lot of money in ad¬ 
vance to make them begin work. 

And they did put up two looms, and pretended to 
be working; but they had nothing at all on their 
looms. They kept on demanding the finest silk and 
the costliest gold; this they put into their own 
pockets, and worked at the empty looms till late into 
the night. 

“Now I should really like to know how far they have 
got on with the stuff,” thought the emperor. But he 
actually had a queer sensation in his heart when he 
thought that whoever was stupid or no good in his 
office couldn’t see.it. He believed, indeed, that he had 
nothing to fear for himself, but he w r anted to send some 
one else first to see how matters stood. All the people 
in the whole city knew what peculiar power the stuff 
possessed, and all were anxious to see how bad or how* 
stupid their neighbors were. 

“I will send my honest old cabinet minister to the 
weavers,” thought the emperor. “He can tell best what 
the stuff looks like, because he’s a sensible man and 
nobody is better in his office than he is.” 

So the decent old minister went into the hall where 
the two swindlers sat working at the empty looms. 

“Mercy on us!” thought the old minister, and he 
opened his eyes wide. “I can’t see anything at all!” 
But he didn’t say that. 

Both the swindlers begged him to be kind enough to 
come nearer, and asked if he didn’t think that was a 


THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES 101 

lovely pattern and beautiful colors. Then they pointed 
to the empty loom, and the poor old minister went on 
opening his eyes; but he could see nothing, for there 
was nothing to see. 

“Dear me!” he thought, “could it be that I am stupid? 
I never thought that, and not a soul must know it. Am 
I not fit for my office?—No, it will never do for me to 
tell that I couldn’t see the. stuff.” 

“Well, haven’t you anything to say about it 1 ?” said 
one of the weavers. 

“Oh, it is charming—perfectly darling!” said the old 
minister, as he peered through his spectacles. “What 
a fine pattern, and what colors! Yes, I shall tell the 
emperor that I am very much pleased with it.” 

“Well, we’re very glad,” said both the weavers; and 
then they named the colors, and explained the strange 
pattern. The old minister listened carefully, so that 
he could repeat it when he went back to the emperor. 
And so he did. 

Now the swindlers asked for more money, and more 
silk and gold, which they said they wanted for weaving. 
They put everything into their own pockets, and not a 
thread was put on the loom; but they kept on working 
at the empty frames as before. 

The emperor soon sent another simple official to see 
how the weaving was going on, and if the stuff w T ould 
soon be ready. He had no better luck than the first: 
he looked and looked, but, as there was nothing to be 
seen but the empty looms, he could see nothing. 

“Yes, isn’t this a fine piece of stuff?” asked the two 
swindlers; and they pointed out and explained the hand¬ 
some pattern which wasn’t there at all. 

“I know I am not stupid!”—thought the man—“it 
must be my good office, for which I am not fit. That’s 
very queer, but I mustn’t let anybody notice it.” And 
so he praised the stuff he didn’t see, and expressed his 
pleasure at the beautiful colors and the charming pat- 


102 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


tern. “Yes, it is perfectly darling,” he said to the 
emperor. 

All the people in the town were talking of the gorgeous 
stuff. The emperor now wanted to see it himself while 
it was still on the loom. With a whole crowd of chosen 
men, among whom were also the decent old officials who 
had already been there, he went to the two cunning 
swindlers, who were now w r eaving with might and main 
without fiber or thread. 

“Isn’t it magnifique?” said both the good officials, 
who had already been there once. “Will your majesty 
see what a pattern, what colors?” And then they 
pointed to the empty loom, for they thought that the 
others could probably see the stuff. 

“What’s this?” thought the emperor. “I can see 
nothing at all! That is terrible. Am I stupid? Am 
I unfit to be emperor? That would be the most dread¬ 
ful thing that could happen to me.—Oh, it is very 
pretty!” he said aloud. “It has our exalted approba¬ 
tion.” And he nodded in a contented way, and gazed 
at the empty loom, for he wouldn’t say that he couldn’t 
see anything. His whole retinue looked and looked, 
and saw nothing, any more than the rest; but, like the 
emperor, they said, “That is pretty!” and counseled 
him to wear these splendid new clothes for the first time 
at the great procession soon to take place. “It is 
magnifique, delicious, excellent!” went from mouth to 
mouth, and they were all marvelously pleased. The 
emperor gave each of the swindlers a cross to hang 
at his buttonhole and the title of Knight of the 
Loom. 

The whole night before the morning on which the pro¬ 
cession was to take place the swindlers were up, and had 
more than sixteen candles burning. The people could 
see that they were hard at work, finishing the emperor’s 
new clothes. They pretended to take the stuff down 





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THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES 


103 


from the loom; they made cuts in the air with big scis¬ 
sors; they sewed with needles without thread; and at 
last they said, “Now the clothes are ready!” 

The emperor came himself with his noblest cavaliers; 
and the two swindlers lifted up one arm as if they 
were holding something, and said, “See, here are the 
trousers! here is the coat; here is the cloak!” and so 
on. “It is as light as a spider’s web; one would 
think one had nothing on; but that is just the beauty 
of it.” 

“Yes,” said all the cavaliers; but they couldn’t see 
anything, for nothing was there. 

“Does your imperial majesty please to condescend 
to undress?” said the swindlers, “then we will put 
the new clothes on you here in front of the large 
mirror.” 

The emperor took off his clothes, and the swindlers 
pretended to put on him each of the new garments, and 
they took him round the waist, and seemed to fasten on 
something; that was the train; and the emperor turned 
round and round before the mirror. 

“Oh, how well they look! how wonderfully they fit!” 
everybody said. “What a pattern! what colors! That 
is a splendid dress !” 

“They are standing outside with the canopy which is 
to be borne above your majesty in the procession!” 
announced the head master of the ceremonies. 

“Well, I’m ready, of course,” said the emperor. 
“Don’t they fit me well?” And then he turned around 
again in front of the mirror because he wanted it to 
seem as if he w r ere giving his fine clothes a good look. 

The chamberlains, who were to carry the train, groped 
with their hands on the floor, just as if they were pick¬ 
ing up the mantle; then they pretended to be holding 
something up in the air. They didn t dare to let any¬ 
body guess that they couldn’t see anything. 



So the emperor went in procession under the rich 
canopy, and every one in the streets said, “Heavens! 
how matchless the emperor’s new clothes are! What a 
lovely train his mantle has! What a miraculous fit!” 
No one would let it be known that he couldn’t see any¬ 
thing, for that would have shown that he was not fit 
for his office, or was very stupid. Not any of the em¬ 
peror’s clothes had ever had such a success as these. 
“But he has nothing on!” a little child cried out at 

last. 

“Dear me, listen to what the innocent says,” said the 
father, and people whispered to each other what the 

child had said. 

“He has nothing on; a little child says that he has 
nothing on!” 

“But he has nothing on!” everybody shouted at 
last. And the emperor shivered, for it seemed to him 


















































THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES 


105 


that they were right; but he thought within himself, 
‘‘I must go through with the procession.” And so he 
carried himself still more proudly, and the chamber¬ 
lains walked along holding the train which wasn’t there 
at all. 







05)e > 3t'ea(fta ) st' 

Tin ^Soldier 



HERE were once five and twenty tin 

soldiers; they were all brothers, for they 
had all been born of one old tin spoon. 
They shouldered their muskets, they 

looked straight in front of them, their 

uniform was red and blue, and very splendid. The 

first thing they heard in the world, when the lid 

was taken oft their box, were the words “Tin sol¬ 
diers !” That was shouted by a little boy who clapped 
his hands; the soldiers had been given to him, for it was 
his birthday; and now he put them on the table. Every 
soldier was the living image of all the rest, only one 
of them was a little different, he had one leg, for he 
had been cast last of all, and there hadn’t been enough 
tin to finish him; but he stood as firmly on his one leg 
as the others on their two; and it was just this soldier 
who amounted to something. 

On the table where they had been placed stood many 
other playthings, but the toy that struck the eye most 

106 




















THE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER 


107 


was a lovely castle of cardboard. Through the little 
windows one could see straight into the rooms. Outside 
the castle some little trees stood around a little looking- 
glass, which made believe it was a lake. Wax swans 
swam on this lake, and were mirrored in it. This was 
all very pretty; but the prettiest of all was a little lady, 
'who stood at the open door of the castle ; she was also 
cut out in paper, but she had a dress of the clearest 
gauze, and a little narrow blue ribbon over her shoulders, 
that looked like a scarf; and in the middle of this ribbon 
was a shining spangle as big as her whole face. The 
little lady stretched out both her arms, for she was a 
dancer; and then she lifted one leg so high that the tin 
soldier couldn’t see it at all, and thought that, like him¬ 
self, she had only one leg. 

“That would be the wife for me,” he thought, “but 
she is very grand. She lives in a castle, and I have 
only a box, and there are five and twenty of us in that. 
It is no place for her. But I must try to get acquainted 
with her.” 

And then he lay down at full length behind a snuff¬ 
box which was on the table; there he could easily watch 
the little dainty lady, who kept on standing on one leg 
without losing her balance. 

When the evening came, all the other tin soldiers were 
put into their box, and the people in the house went to 
bed. Now the toys began to play at “visiting,” and 
at “war,” and “giving balls.” The tin soldiers rattled 
in their box, for they wanted to join, but couldn’t lift 
the lid. The nutcracker threw somersaults, and the 
pencil danced on the slate; there was so much noise 
that the canary woke up, and began to talk too, and even 
in verse. The only two who did not stir from their 
places were the tin soldier and the little dancer; she 
stood straight up on the point of one of her toes, and 
stretched out both her arms; and he was just as stead- 


108 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


fast on his one leg; and he never turned his eyes away 
from her. 



S3 

Now the clock struck twelve—and, bounce!—the lid 
flew off the snuffbox; but there was no snuff in it, 
but a little black goblin; it was a trick, you see. 

“Tin soldier!” said the goblin, “will you keep your 
eyes to yourself?” 

But the tin soldier pretended not to hear him. 

“Just you wait till to-morrow!” said the goblin. 

But when the morning came, and the children got up, 
the tin soldier was placed in the window; and whether 
it was the goblin or the draught that did it, all at once 
the window flew open, and the soldier fell head over heels 
out of the third story. It was a terrible trip! He 
turned his leg straight up, and stuck with his cap down 
and his bayonet between the paving-stones. 

The servant and the little boy came down right away 
to look for him, but though they almost stepped on 
him they couldn’t see him. If the soldier had cried 
out, “Here I am!” they would have found him; but 
he didn’t think it was proper to scream when he was 
in uniform. 

Now it began to rain; one drop bigger than the next, 
it was a regular downpour. When the rain was over, 
two street boys came along. 











































THE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER 


109 


“Pipe that!” said one of them, “there’s a tin sol¬ 
dier. He’ll go for a sail.” 

And they made a boat out of a newspaper, and put 
the tin soldier in the middle of it; and so he sailed down 
the gutter, and the two boys ran beside him and 
clapped their hands. Mercy on us! how the waves rose 
in that gutter, and what a current! But then it had 
been a downpour. The paper boat rocked up and down, 
and sometimes turned around so quickly that the tin 
soldier trembled; but he remained steadfast, and never 
moved a muscle, but looked straight before him, and 
shouldered his musket. 

All at once the boat went under a long board over 
the gutter, and it became as dark as if he had been 
in his box. 



“Where am I going now?” he thought. “Well, I 
suppose that’s the goblin’s fault. Ah! if the little lady 
only sat here with me in the boat, it might be twice 
as dark for all I’d care.” 

Suddenly there came a big water rat, who lived under 
the drain. 

“Have you a passport?” said the rat. “Give me your 
passport.” 






























110 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


But the tin soldier kept still and held his musket 
tighter than ever. 

The boat rushed on, and the rat after it. Ugh! how 
he gnashed his teeth, and shouted to sticks and straw’s. 

“Stop him! Stop him! he hasn’t paid toll—he hasn’t 
shown his passport!” 

But the current went faster and faster. The tin 
soldier could see the bright daylight where the board 
ended; but he heard a roaring noise, wdiich might w 7 ell 
frighten a bold man. Just think, where the board ended 
the gutter plunged right down into a big canal; and for 
him that W’ould be as dangerous as for us to be carried 
down a big waterfall. 

Now t he was already so near it that he couldn’t stop. 
The boat w r as carried out, the poor tin soldier stiffening 
himself as much as he could, no one should say that he 
blinked an eve. The boat w’hirled round three or four 
times, and was full of water to the very edge—it must 
sink. The tin soldier stood up to his neck in water, and 
the boat sank deeper and deeper, and the paper w’as 
going to pieces more and more; and now the water 
closed over the soldier’s head. Then he thought of the 
pretty little dancer, and how he should never see her 
again; and now it sounded in the tin soldier’s ears: 

Danger, danger, warrior. 

Death you must suiter. 

And now the paper parted, and the tin soldier fell 
out; but at that moment he w 7 as swallow r ed by a big fish. 

Oh, how dark it was in there! It w r as even worse than 
under the gutter board; and then it was very narrow 
too. But the tin soldier was steadfast, and lay at full 
length shouldering his musket. 

The fish rushed around and w’ent through the most 
terrible motions, but at last it got very quiet, and some- 



THE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER 


111 


thing flashed through it like lightning. The daylight 
shone quite clear, and there was a loud shout, “The tin 
soldier!” The fish had been caught, carried to mar¬ 
ket, bought, and taken into the kitchen, where the cook 
cut him open with a large knife. She seized the sol¬ 
dier round the body with two fingers, and carried him 
into the room, where all were anxious to see the re¬ 
markable man who had traveled around in the stom¬ 
ach of a fish; but the tin soldier wasn’t at all proud. 
They placed him on the table, and there—well, what 
queer things do*happen in the world! The tin soldier 
was in the very room where he had been before! He 
saw the same children, and the same toys stood on the 
table; and there was the pretty castle with the grace¬ 
ful little dancer. She was still standing on one foot 
with the other in the air. She was steadfast, too. That 
moved the tin soldier; he was very nearly weeping tin 
tears, but that wouldn’t have been proper. He looked 
at her and she looked at him, but they didn’t say 
anything. 

Just then one of the little boys took and threw the 
tin soldier right into the stove, and he didn’t say why 
he did it at all; it must have been the fault of the 
goblin in the snuffbox. 

The tin soldier stood there all lighted up, and felt 
a heat that was terrible; but whether this heat was 
from the real fire or from love he did not know. The 
colors had entirely worn off him; but whether this w r as 
from the journey or from sorrow, nobody could tell. He 
looked at the little lady, she looked at him, and he was 
moved, he was melting; but he still stood steadfast, 
shouldering his musket. Then suddenly the door flew 
open, and the draught of air caught the dancer, and she 
flew like a sylph right into the stove to the tin soldier, 
and flashed up in a flame, and was gone. Then the tin 



112 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


soldier melted down into a lump, and when the servant 
took the ashes out next day, she found him in the shape 
of a little tin heart. But of the dancer there was only 
the spangle left, and that was burned as black as coal. 








The Yfild /StXrdfrjS 


F AR away, where the swallows fly when our 
winter comes, lived a king who had eleven 
sons, and one daughter named Elisa. 
The eleven brothers, princes they were, 
- went to school with stars on their breasts 

and swords by their sides. They wrote with pencils of 
diamond on slates of gold, and recited from memory 
just as well as from the book; one could hear right 
away that they were princes. Their sister Elisa sat on 

113 







114 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


a little stool of plate glass, and had a picture book 
which had cost half the kingdom. 

Oh, how very well off those children were, but it wasn’t 
going to last. 

Their father, who was king of the whole country, 
married a bad queen who did not love the poor children 
at all. They noticed it on the very first day. There 
was a grand entertainment in the whole palace, and the 
children played “visitors,” but instead of getting all the 
cakes and roast apples they could manage, they only 
had some sand given them in a teacup, and were told 
that they might make believe that was something 
good. 

Next week the queen boarded little Elisa out with 
some farmers in the country, and it wasn’t long before 
she told the king so many falsehoods about the poor 
princes that he did not trouble himself any more about 
them. 

“Fly out into the world and get your own living,” said 
the wicked queen. “Fly like big birds without a voice.” 

But she couldn’t do them as much harm as she would 
have liked, for they became eleven lovely wild swans. 
With a strange cry they flew out of the palace windows, 
over the park and into the wood. 

It was still very early in the morning when they passed 
by the place where their sister Elisa lay asleep in the 
farmer’s room. Here they hovered over the roof, turned 
their long necks, and beat their wfings; but no one heard 
or saw it. They had to fly on, high up toward the 
clouds, far away into the wide world; there they flew into 
a big dark wood, which stretched away to the seashore. 

Poor little Elisa stood in the farmer’s house and 
played with a green leaf, for she had no other play¬ 
things. And she pricked a hole in the leaf, and looked 
through it up at the sun, and it seemed to her that 
she saw her brothers’ clear eyes; each time the warm 
sun shone on her cheeks she thought of all their kisses. 


THE WILD SWANS 


115 


Each day went like the other. When the wind swept 
through the big rose hedges outside the house, it seemed 
to whisper to them, “Who can be more beautiful than 
you?” But the roses shook their heads and answered, 
“Elisa!” And when the old woman sat in front of her 
door on Sunday and read in her hymn book, the wind 
turned the leaves and said to the book, “Who can be 
more pious than you?” and the hymn book said, 
“Elisa!” And what the rosebushes and the hymn book 
said was only the simple truth. 

When she was fifteen years old she was to go home. 
And when the queen saw how beautiful she was, she 
was filled with spite and hatred. She would have been 
glad to change her into a wild swan, like her brothers, 
but she did not dare to do so at once, because the king 
wanted to see his daughter. 

Early in the morning the queen went into the bath, 
which was built of white marble, and decked with soft 
cushions and the loveliest tapestry; and she took three 
toads and kissed them, and said to the first: 

“Sit on Elisa’s head when she comes into the bath, 
that she may be as dull and slow as you.—Sit on her 
forehead,” she said to the second, “that she may be as 
ugly as you, and her father may not know her.—Rest 
on her heart,” she whispered to the third, “that she may 
receive an evil mind and suffer pain from it.” 

Then she put the toads into the clear water, which 
at once turned a greenish color, called Elisa, undressed 
her, and let her step down into the water. And while 
Elisa ducked down, one of the toads sat on her hair, 
and the second on her forehead, and the third on her 
heart; but she didn’t seem to notice it at all; and as 
soon as she rose, three red poppies were floating on the 
water. If the creatures hadn’t been poisonous, and if 
the witch hadn’t kissed them, they would have been 
changed into red roses. But at any rate they became 
flowers, because they had rested on the girl’s head, and 


110 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

forehead, and heart. She was too good and innocent for 
witchcraft to have power over her. 

When the wicked queen saw that, she rubbed Elisa 
with walnut juice, so that the girl got quite dark brown, 
and smeared a stinking salve on her face, and let her 
beautiful hair get all tangled. It was impossible to 
recognize the pretty Elisa again. 

When her father saw her he was really frightened, 
and said this wasn’t his daughter. Only the watch¬ 
dog and the swallows w T ould have anything to do with 
her; but they were poor creatures who had nothing to 
say. 

Then poor Elisa wept, and thought of her eleven 
brothers who were all away. Sadly she stole out of 
the castle, and walked all day over field and moor till 
she came into a large wood. She did not know where 
she wanted to go, only she felt so sad and longed for 
her brothers; like herself they must have been driven out 
into the world and she would try to find them. 

She had been only a short time in the wood when the 
night fell; she had lost all road and path, therefore 
she lay down on the soft moss, said her evening prayer, 
and leaned her head against the stump of a tree. It 
was very still, the air was mild, and in the grass and in 
the moss hundreds of glowworms gleamed like a- green 
fire; when she lightly touched one of the twigs with her 
hand, the shining insects fell down on her like shooting 
stars. 

The whole night long she dreamed of her brothers. 
They were children again playing together, writing with 
diamond pencils on golden slates, and looking at the 
beautiful picture book which had cost half the kingdom. 
But on the slates they weren’t writing zeros and lines 
as before, but the brave deeds they had done, and all 
they had seen and experienced; and in the picture book 
everything was alive—the birds sang, and the people 
came out of the book and spoke with Elisa and her 


THE WILD SWANS 


117 


brothers. But when the leaf was turned, they jumped 
back again right away so as not to get the pictures 
mixed. 

When she w T oke up, the sun was already high. She 
couldn’t really see it, for the tall trees spread their 
branches far and wide above her. But the sun’s rays 
played up there like a waving golden gauze, all the green 
things sent out fragrance, and the birds almost sat on 
her shoulders. She heard the plashing of water; it was 
from a, number of springs all flowing into a pool which 
had the nicest sandy bottom. It was surrounded by 
thick bushes, but in one place the deer had made a large 
opening, and here Elisa went down to the water. It 
was so clear, that if the wind hadn’t stirred the branches 
and the bushes, so that they moved, one would have 
thought they were painted on the bottom of the lake, 
so clearly was every leaf mirrored, whether the sun shone 
through it or whether it lay in shadow. 

When Elisa saw her own face she was terrified—so 
brown and ugly was she; but when she wetted her little 
hand and rubbed her eves and her forehead, the white 
skin shone out again. Then she undressed and went 
down into the fresh water; in all this world there wasn’t 
a more beautiful daughter of kings. And when she 
had dressed herself again and braided her long hair, 
she went to the bubbling spring, drank out of her cupped 
hand, and then wandered farther into the wood, not 
knowing where she went. She thought of her dear 
brothers, and thought of the good Lord who surely 
wouldn’t forsake her; he let the wild wood apples grow 
to satisfy the hungry and he showed her a tree, 
with the boughs bending under the weight of the fruit. 
Here she took her midday meal, placed props under 
the boughs, and then went into the darkest part of the 
forest. There it was so still that she could hear her 
footsteps, and the rustling of every dry leaf which bent 
under her feet. Not one bird was to be seen, not one 


118 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


ray of sunlight could find its way through the big dark 
boughs of the trees; the tall trunks stood so close to¬ 
gether that when she looked before her it seemed as if 
close wooden bars surrounded her. Oh, here was a loneli¬ 
ness such as she had never known before! 

The night was very dark. Not a single little glow¬ 
worm now shone from the moss. Sorrowfully she lay 
down to sleep. Then it seemed to her as if the branches 
of the trees parted above her head, and the good Lord 
looked down on her with gentle eyes and little angels 
peeped out from over his head and under his arms. 

When the morning came, she did not know if it had 
really been so or if she had dreamed it. 

She went a few steps forward, and then she met an 
old woman with berries in her basket, and the old woman 
gave her a few of them. Elisa asked her if she hadn’t 
seen eleven princes riding through the wood. 

“No,” said the old woman, “but yesterday I saw 
eleven swans swimming in the river close by, with golden 
crowns on their heads.” 

And she led Elisa a little farther to a slope, and 
at the foot of this a little river wound its way. The 
trees on the edge stretched their long leafy branches 
across toward each other, and where their natural 
growth would not allow them to come together, the roots 
had torn out of the ground, and hung, mingled with 
the branches, over the water. 

Elisa said good-by to the old woman, and went along 
the river to the place where the stream flowed out to the 
great open strand. 

The whole wonderful sea lay before the young girl, but 
there wasn’t one sail on it, and not a boat was to be 
seen. How would she get farther away? She looked 
at the innumerable little pebbles on the shore; the water 
had worn them all round. Glass, iron, stones, every¬ 
thing that was there had been formed by the water, 
although it was much softer than even her delicate hand. 







































































THE WILD SWANS 119 

i .‘' II kcG P s on rolling without getting tired and the hard 
tnings aie made smooth; I will be just as untiring. I 
thank you for teaching me that, you clear rolling waves; 
my heart tells me that one day you will carry me to my 
dear brothers.” 

On the seaweed that had been washed up lay eleven 
white swan feathers, w r hich she made into a bouquet. 
Drops of water lay on them, nobody could tell whether 
they w r ere dew-drops or tears. The beach was lonely, 
but she didn t mind, for the sea kept on changing, 
more in a few hours than the fresh-water lakes in a whole 
year. If a big black cloud came it w r as as if the sea 
W’ould say, “I can look angry, too;” and then the wind 
blew, and the waves put whitecaps on. But when the 
clouds gleamed red and the winds slept, the sea looked 
like a rose leaf; sometimes it became green, sometimes 
white. But however quietly it might rest, there w r as 
still a slight motion at the shore; the water rose gently 
like the breast of a sleeping child. 

When the sun was just about to set, Elisa saw eleven 
wild swans, wdth crowns on their heads, flying toward 
the land; they sw T ept along one after the other, so that 
they looked like a long white band. Then Elisa climbed 
up the slope and hid herself behind a bush. The swans 
alighted near her and beat their big white wings. 

As soon as the sun had disappeared beneath the water, 
the swans’ feathers fell off, and eleven handsome princes 
stood there, Elisa’s brothers. She uttered a loud cry, for 
although they were much changed, she knew and felt 
that it must be they. And she sprang into their arms 
and called them by their names; and the princes were 
blissfully happy when they saw their little sister again; 
and they knew her, though she was now tall and beau¬ 
tiful. They laughed and they cried; and soon they un¬ 
derstood how cruel their stepmother had been to them all. 

“We brothers,” said the eldest, “fly about as wild 
sw r ans as long as the sun is in the sky, but as soon as 


120 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

it sinks down we get our human form again. There¬ 
fore we must always take care that we have a resting 
place for our feet when the sun sets; for if at that mo¬ 
ment we were flying up toward the clouds, we should 
sink down into the deep as men. We don’t live here. 
On the other side of the sea there is a country just as 
beautiful as this, but it is a long way off. We must 
cross the great sea and on our path there is no island 
where we could pass the night, only a lonely little rock 
juts out in the middle of the sea; it is just large enough 
for us to rest on it side by side. If the waves are 
high, the water spurts far over us, but we thank God 
for the rock. There we pass the night in our human 
form; except for this rock we could never visit our be¬ 
loved country, for we need two of the longest days in 
the year for our journey. Only once in each year is 
it granted to us to visit our home. For eleven days 
we may stay here and fly over the great wood, from 
where we can see the palace in which we were born and 
in which our father lives, and the high tower of the 
church where our mother lies buried. Here it seems to 
us as though the bushes and trees were our relatives; 
here the wild horses gallop across the plains, as we saw 
them do in our childhood; here the charcoal burner 
sings the old songs to which we danced as children; here 
is our fatherland; here we feel ourselves drawn, and here 
we have found you, our dear little sister. Two days 
more we may stay here; then we must away across the 
sea to a lovely country, but it is not our own. How 
can we take you with us? for we have neither ship nor 
boat.” 

“How can I save you?” asked the sister; and they 
talked nearly the whole night, only slumbering for a 
few hours. 

She was awakened by the sound of the swans’ wings 
above her head. Her brothers were again enchanted, 
and they flew in wide circles and at last far away; but 


THE WILD SWANS 


121 


one of them, the youngest, stayed behind, and the swan 
laid his head in her lap, and she stroked his wings; and 
the whole day they were together. Toward evening 
the others came back, and when the sun had gone down 
they stood there in their own shapes. 

“To-morrow we fly far away from here, and cannot 
come back until a whole year has gone by. But we 
cannot leave you this way! Are you brave enough to 
come with us? My arm is strong enough to carry you 
in the wood; and should not all our wings be strong 
enough to fly with you over the sea?” 

“Yes, take me with you,” said Elisa. 

They spent the whole night in weaving a net of 
pliable willow bark and tough rushes; and it was large 
and strong. On this net Elisa lay down; and when 
the sun rose, and her brothers were changed into wild 
swans, they seized the net with their beaks, and flew 
with their beloved sister, who was still asleep, high up 
toward the clouds. The sunbeams fell right on her 
face, so one of the swans flew over her head, that his 
broad wings might overshadow her. 

They were far away from the shore when Elisa woke 
up; she thought she was still dreaming, so strange did it 
seem to her to be carried high through the air and over 
the sea. By her side lay a branch with lovely ripe ber¬ 
ries and a bunch of sweet-tasting roots. The youngest 
of the brothers had gathered them and placed them 
there for her. She smiled at him gratefully, for she rec¬ 
ognized him; it was he who flew over her and shaded her 
with his wings. 

They were so high that the first ship they saw be¬ 
neath them seemed like a white seagull lying on the 
water. A big cloud stood behind them—it was a perfect 
mountain; and on it Elisa saw T her own shadow and those 
of the eleven swans; there they flew on, gigantic in 
size. Here was a picture, a more splendid one than she 
had ever yet seen. But as the sun rose higher and 


122 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


tlie cloud was left farther behind them, the floating shad¬ 
owy images vanished away. 

The whole day they flew onward through the air, like 
a whirring arrow, but their flight was slower than usual, 
for they had their sister to carry. The weather was 
threatening; the evening drew near; Elisa looked anx¬ 
iously at the setting sun, for the lonely rock in the ocean 
could not be seen. It seemed to her as if the swans beat 
the air more strongly with their wings. Alas! it was 
her fault that they couldn’t go faster. When the sun 
went down, they must become men and fall into the sea 
and drown. Then she prayed a prayer from the depths 
of her heart; but still she could see no rock. The dark 
clouds came nearer, strong gusts of wind announced 
a storm, the clouds were like one huge threatening wave, 
rolling forward as heavy as lead, and the lightning 
burst in flash after flash. 

Now the sun just touched the edge of the sea. Elisa’s 
heart trembled. Then the swans darted downward, so 
swiftly that she thought they were falling, but they 
hovered again. The sun w T as half hidden below the 
water. And now for the first time she saw the little 
rock beneath her, and it looked no larger than a seal 
might look, sticking its head above the water. The 
sun sank very fast; at last it was only like a star; and 
then her foot touched firm ground. The sun was 
quenched like the last spark in a piece of burned paper; 
her brothers were standing around her, arm in arm, 
but there was no more than just enough room for her 
and for them. The sea beat against the rock and went 
over them like a heavy shower ; the sky gleamed with 
ever-flaming fire, and peal on peal the thunder rolled; 
but sister and brothers held each other by the hand, 
and sang a hymn which gave them comfort and courage. 

In the dawn the air was pure and calm. As soon 
as the sun rose the swans flew away with Elisa from 
the island. The sea still ran high, and when they were 


THE WILD SWANS 


123 


far up in the air it looked as if the white foam on the 
black and green sea was millions of swans floating on 
the water. 

When the sun rose higher, Elisa saw before her, 
half floating in the air, a mountainous country with shin¬ 
ing masses of ice on its hills, and in the midst of it 
rose a castle, looking a mile long, with row above row 
of daring columns, while beneath waved palm woods and 
grand flowers as large as mill wheels. She asked if this 
was the country where they were going, but the swans 
shook their heads, for what she saw was the gorgeous, 
ever-changing palace of Fata Morgana, and into this 
they might bring no human being. As Elisa gazed at it, 
mountains, woods, and castle fell down, and twenty proud 
churches, all alike, with high towers and pointed win¬ 
dows, stood before them. She thought she heard the 
organs sounding, but it was the sea she heard. When 
she was quite near the churches they changed to a fleet 
sailing beneath her, but when she looked down it was 
only sea mist drifting on the water. So the view kept 
changing for her, till at last she saw the real land for 
which they were bound. There rose lovely blue moun¬ 
tains, with cedar forests, cities, and palaces. Long be¬ 
fore the sun went down she sat on a rock in front of 
a large cave overgrown with delicate green vines, it was 
like embroidered rugs. 

“Now we shall see what you will dream of here to¬ 
night,” said the youngest brother; and he showed her 
to her bedroom. 

“I wish I could dream how to save you,” she said. 

And this thought was so vivid in her mind and she 
prayed so warmly to God for help, even in her sleep she 
kept on praying, and then it seemed to her as if she 
were flying high in the air to the cloudy palace of Fata 
Morgana; and the fairy came out to meet her, beau¬ 
tiful and radiant; and yet the fairy was quite like the 
old woman who had given her the berries in the wood, 


124 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


and had told her of the swans with golden crowns on 
their heads. 

“Your brothers can be saved,” she said. “But have 
you courage and perseverance? It is true water is 
softer than your delicate hands, and yet it changes the 
shape of stones; but it doesn’t feel the pain that your 
fingers will feel; it has no heart, and does not suffer the 
agony and torment you will have to endure. Do you 
see the stinging nettle which I hold in my hand? Many 
of the same kind grow around the cave in which you 
sleep; those only, and those that grow on churchyard 
graves, can be used, remember that. Those you must 
pluck, though they will burn your hands into blisters. 
Break these nettles to pieces with your feet, and you 
will have flax; of this you must braid and bind eleven 
shirts of mail with long sleeves; throw these over the 
eleven swans, and the charm will be broken. But re¬ 
member well, from the moment you begin this work until 
it is finished, even though it should take years, you must 
not speak. The first word you speak will pierce the 
hearts of your brothers like a deadly dagger. Their 
lives hang on your tongue. Remember all this!” 

And she touched her hand with the nettle; it was like 
a burning fire, and Elisa woke up with the pain. It 
was broad daylight; and close by the spot where she had 
slept lay a nettle like the one she had seen in her dream. 
She fell on her knees and thanked the good Lord, and 
went out of the cave to begin her work. 

With her delicate hands she grasped the horrid net¬ 
tles. They stung like fire, burning great blisters on 
her arms and hands; but she thought she w ould bear it 
gladly if she could only save her dear brothers. Then 
she bruised every nettle with her bare feet and twisted 
the green flax. 

When the sun had set her brothers came, and they 
were frightened when they found her dumb. They 
thought it was some new sorcery of their wicked step- 


THE WILD SWANS 


125 


mother’s; but when they saw her hands, they understood 
what she was doing for their sake, and the youngest 
brother wept. And where his tears dropped she felt no 
more pain, and the burning blisters vanished. 

She passed the night at her work, for she would have 
no peace till she had saved her dear brothers. The 
whole of the following day, while the swans were away, 
she sat alone, but never had time flown so quickly with 
her as now. One shirt of mail was already finished, and 
now she began the second. 

Then a hunting horn sounded among the hills, and she 
was very frightened. The noise came nearer and nearer; 
she heard the barking dogs, and timidly she fled into 
the cave, bound into a bundle the nettles she had gath¬ 
ered and hackled, and sat on the bundle. 

Just then a big dog came bounding out of the thicket, 
and then another, and another; they barked loudly, ran 
back, and then came again. Only a few minutes had 
gone before all the huntsmen stood before the cave, and 
the handsomest of them was the king of the country. 
He came forward to Elisa, for he had never seen a 
more beautiful girl. 

“How did you come here, my pretty child?” he asked. 

Elisa shook her head, for of course she couldn’t speak 
—it would cost her brothers their salvation and their 
lives. And she hid her hands under her apron, so that 
the king might not see what she was suffering. 

“Come with me,” said he. “You mustn’t stay here. 
If you are as good as you are beautiful, I will dress you 
in velvet and silk, and place the golden crown on your 
head, and you shall live in my richest castle.” 

And then he lifted her on his horse. She wept and 
wrung her hands; but the king said: 

“I only wish for your happiness; one day you will 
thank me for this.” 

And then he galloped away among the mountains with 
her on his horse, and the hunters galloped at their heels. 


126 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


When the sun went down, the splendid royal city lay 
before them, with its churches and cupolas; and the 
king led her into the castle, where great fountains 
plashed in the lofty marble halls, and where walls and 
ceilings boasted of paintings. But she had no eyes for 
all this—she only wept and mourned. Passively she 
let the women put royal robes on her, and weave pearls 
in her hair, and draw dainty gloves over her blistered 
fingers. 

When she stood there in all her splendor, she was 
so dazzlingly beautiful that the court bowed deeper 
than ever. And the king chose her for his bride, al¬ 
though the archbishop shook his head and whispered 
that the prett} 1, forest girl was certainly a witch, who 
blinded their eyes and led astray the heart of the king. 

But the king didn’t listen; he ordered music to be 
played, and the costliest dishes to be served, and the 
most beautiful maidens to dance before them. And she 
was led through fragrant gardens into gorgeous halls; 
but never a smile came on her lips or shone in her eyes; 
sorrow sat in them forever. Then the king opened 
a little room close by the place where she was to sleep. 
This chamber was decked with splendid green tapestry, 
and looked just like the cave in which she had been. 
On the floor lay the bundle of flax she had spun from 
the nettles, and under the ceiling hung the shirt of mail 
she had finished knitting. All these things one of the 
huntsmen had brought with him as curiosities. 

“Here you may dream yourself back in your former 
home,” said the king. “Here is the w r ork which occu¬ 
pied you there, and now, in the midst of all your 
splendor, it will amuse you to think of that time.” 

When Elisa saw this that lay so near her heart, a 
smile played round her mouth and the blood came back 
in her cheeks. She thought of the salvation of her 
brothers and kissed the king’s hand; and he pressed her 
to his heart, and let all the church bells announce the 


THE WILD SWANS 


127 


wedding festival. The lovely dumb girl from the woods 
was the queen of the country. 

Then the archbishop whispered evil words into the 
king’s ear, but they did not sink into the king’s heart. 
The marriage was to take place; the archbishop himself 
had to place the crown on her head, and with wicked 
spite he pressed the narrow circlet so tightly on her brow 
that it pained her. But a heavier ring lay around her 
heart—sorrow for her brothers; she did not feel the 
bodily pain. Her mouth was dumb, for a single word 
would cost her brothers their lives, but in her eyes lay 
deep love for the kind, handsome king, who did every¬ 
thing to please her. Her whole heart turned more and 
more toward him every day. Oh, if she could only have 
trusted her grief to him, could have told him her suf¬ 
fering. But dumb she had to be, dumb must she finish 
her work. Therefore at night she stole away from 
his side, and went quietly into the little room which was 
decorated like the cave, and knit one shirt of mail after 
another. But when she began the seventh she had no 
flax left. 

She knew that in the churdhyard nettles were grow¬ 
ing that, she could use; but she must pluck them her¬ 
self, and how was she to get out there? 

“Oh, what is the pain in my fingers to the anguish 
my heart suffers?” she thought. “I must venture it, 
and help will not be denied me!” 

With a heart trembling as if she were planning an 
evil deed, she stole into the garden in the moonlight 
night, and went through the long avenues and through 
the deserted streets to the churchyard. There, on one 
of the broadest tombstones, she saw sitting a circle 
of lamias, hideous witches. They took off their rags, as 
if they were going to bathe; then with their long skinny 
fingers they clawed open the fresh graves, and snatched 
up the corpses and ate the flesh. Elisa had to pass 
close by them, and they fixed their evil eyes on her; 



128 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


but she said her prayers and picked the burning nettles, 
and carried them home to the castle. 

Only one person had seen her, and that was the arch¬ 
bishop. lie was awake while the others slept. Now he 
felt sure he had been right, that all was not as it should 
be with the queen; she was a witch, and therefore she 
had bewitched the king and the whole people. 

In the confessional he told the king what he had seen 
and what he feared; and when the hard words came from 
his mouth, the carved saints in the cathedral shook their 
heads, as though they wanted to say, “It is not true. 
Elisa is innocent !” But the archbishop explained this 
differently—he said they were bearing witness against 
her, and shaking their heads at her sinfulness. Then 
two heavy tears rolled down the king’s cheeks; he went 
home with doubt in his heart, and at night he made 
believe he was asleep, but sleep didn’t come near his 
eyes, for he noticed that Elisa got up. Every night 
she did this, and each time he followed her quietly, and 
saw how she disappeared into her chamber. 

From day to day his face became darker. Elisa saw 
it, but did not understand the reason; but it frightened 
her—and what did she not suffer in her heart for her 
brothers? Her hot tears flowed on the royal velvet and 
purple; they lay there like sparkling diamonds, and 
all who saw the rich splendor wished they were the 
queen. In the meantime she had almost finished her 
work. Only one shirt of mail was still to be completed, 
but she had no flax left, and not a single nettle. Once 
more, for the last time, therefore, she must go to the 
churchyard, to pluck a few handfuls. She thought with 
terror of the lonely walk and of the horrible lamias, 
but her will was as firm as her trust in the good Lord. 

Elisa went, but the king and the archbishop followed 
her. They saw her vanish into the churchyard through 
the wicket gate; and when they came near, the lamias 
were sitting on the gravestones as Eliza had seen them; 


THE WILD SWANS 


129 


and the king” turned aside, for he thought he saw her 
among them, she whose head had rested against his 
breast that very evening. 

“The people must judge her,” said he. 

And the people condemned her to suffer death by fire. 

Out of the gorgeous royal halls she was led into a 
dark, damp hole, where the wind whistled through the 
grated window; instead of velvet and silk they gave 
her the bundle of nettles which she had gathered; on 
this she could lay her head; and the hard burning 
shirts of mail which she had knitted were to be her cover¬ 
let. But nothing could have been given her that she 
liked better. She began her work again and prayed. 
Outside, the street boys were singing jeering songs about 
her, and not a soul comforted her with a kind word. 

But toward evening a swan’s wing beat against the 
grating. It was the youngest of her brothers. He 
had found his sister, and she sobbed aloud with joy, 
though she knew that the coming night would probably 
be the last she had to live. But now the work was 
almost finished, and her brothers were here. 

The archbishop came now r to stay with her in her 
last hour, for he had promised the king to do so. But 
she shook her head, and with looks and gestures she 
begged him to go, for in this night she must finish her 
work, or else all would be in vain, all her tears, her 
pain, and her sleepless nights. The archbishop went 
away saying spiteful things against her; but poor Elisa 
knew she was innocent, and continued her work. 

The small mice ran around on the floor, and dragged 
nettles to her feet to help her even if it were ever so 
little; and a thrush perched beside the bars of the 
vdndow and sang all night as merrily as it could, so 
that she might not lose heart. 

It was still twilight; not till an hour afterward would 
the sun rise. And the eleven brothers stood at the castle 
gate, and demanded to be brought before the king. That 


130 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


could not be, they were told, for it was still almost 
night; the king was asleep, and might not be dis¬ 
turbed. They begged, they threatened, and the sentries 
came, yes, even the king himself came out, and asked 
what was the meaning of this. At that moment the sun 
rose, and there were no brothers to be seen, but eleven 
wild swans flew away over the castle. 

All the people came flocking out at the town gate, 
for they wanted to see the witch burned. A wretched 
old horse drew the cart on which she sat. They had 
put on her a smock of coarse sackcloth. Her lovely 
long hair hung loose about her beautiful head; her 
cheeks were as. pale as death; and her lips moved si¬ 
lently, while her fingers were twisting the green flax. 
Even on the way to death she didn’t stop thee work 
she had begun; the ten shirts of mail lay at her feet, and 
she was knitting the eleventh. The mob jeered at her. 

“Look at the witch muttering to herself! She hasn’t 
even a hymn hook in her hand; no, she sits there with 
her nasty deviltry—tear it into a thousand pieces!” 

And they all pressed on her, and wanted to tear up 
the shirts of mail. Then eleven wild swans came flying 
and sat around her on the cart, and beat their great 
wings; and the mob gave way before them, terrified. 

“That is a sign from heaven! She must be innocent!” 
whispered many. But they did not dare to say it 
aloud. 

Now the executioner seized her by the hand; then she 
hastily threw the eleven shirts over the swans, and eleven 
handsome princes stood there. But the youngest had 
a swan’s wing instead of an arm, for a sleeve was missing 
in his shirt—she had not quite finished it. 

“Now I may speak!” she said. “I am innocent!” 

And the people who saw what happened bowed be¬ 
fore her as before a saint; but sbe sank fainting into 
her brothers’ arms, such an effect had suspense, fear, 
and pain had on her. 


THE WILD SWANS 


131 


“Yes, she is innocent,” said the eldest brother. 

And now he told everything that had taken place; 
and while he spoke a fragrance arose as of millions of 
roses, for every piece of faggot in the pile had taken 
root and grown branches; and a fragrant hedge stood 
there, tall and great, covered with red roses, and at the 
top a flower, white and shining, gleamed like a star. 
This flower the king plucked and placed in Elisa’s 
bosom; and she woke up with peace and happiness in 
her heart. 

And all the church bells rang themselves, and the 
birds came in large flocks, and there was a wedding pro¬ 
cession back to the castle such as no king had ever seen. 






EZ) 5%, 


'Jhe Swineherd ^ s 

HERE was once a poor Prince. He had a 
very small kingdom, but then it was al¬ 
ways large enough to marry on, and he 
did want to get married. 

Now it was rather bold of him, of 
course, to dare to say to the Emperor’s daughter, “Will 
you have me?” But he did dare it, for his name was 
famous far and wide. There were hundreds of prin¬ 
cesses who would have said yes and thank you; but did 
she say so? Well, we shall see. 

On the grave of the Prince’s father there grew a rose¬ 
bush, oh, such a lovely rosebush. It bloomed only 
every fifth year, and even then it was only one single 
rose, but that was a rose so sweet that whoever smelled 
it forgot all his troubles and trials. And then he had 
a nightingale, which could sing as if all lovely melo¬ 
dies sat in its little throat. This rose and this night¬ 
ingale the Princess was to have, and therefore they were 
put into big silver cases and sent to her. 

The Emperor let the presents be carried before him 
into the great hall where the Princess was playing 
“company” with her maids of honor (they didn’t do 
anything else), and when she saw the big silver cases 
with the presents in them, she clapped her hands with 

j°y* 



132 





















THE SWINEHERD 


133 


“Oh, I hope it’s a little pussycat!” she said. 

But then out came the lovely rose. 

“A very neat piece of work, indeed!” said all the court 
ladies. 

“It is more than neat,” said the Emperor, “it is nice!” 

But the Princess felt it, and then she almost cried. 

“Oh, how horrid, papa!” she said, “it’s not artificial, 
it’s real!” 

“Oh, how horrid!” said all the court ladies, “it’s 
real!” 

“Let’s see now what there is in the other case before 
we get angry,” said the Emperor. And then the night¬ 
ingale came out; it sang so beautifully that they 
couldn’t say anything against it right away. 

“ Superbe! charmant /” said the maids of honor, for 
they all spoke French, one worse than the other. 

“How that bird reminds me of the late Empress’s 
little music box,” said an old cavalier. “Dear me, 
it’s the same tone, the same expression.” 

“Yes,” said the Emperor; and then he wept like a 
little child. 

“I w'onder if that could possibly be real,” said the 
Princess. 

“Yes, it is a real bird,” said they who had brought it. 

“Then you can let that bird fly,” said the Princess; 
and she would by no means allow the Prince to come. 

But the Prince wasn’t at all discouraged. He smudged 
his face brown and black, pulled his cap down over his 
eyes, and knocked at the door. 

“How do you do, Emperor,” he said, “couldn’t I get 
a job here in the castle?” 

“Well,” said the Emperor, “ever so many people want 
jobs here, but, let me see, I want some one who can 
take care of the pigs, we have so many of them.” 

So the Prince was appointed Imperial swineherd. 
He got a miserable small room down by the pigsty, 
and here he had to stay; but all day long he sat and 


134 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


worked, and when it was evening he had finished a> neat 
little pot, with bells all around it, and as soon as the 
pot boiled then they tinkled so prettily and played the 
old melody: 

Oh, my darling Augustine, 

All is lost, all is lost. 

But the artfullest thing about it was that by holding 
one’s finger in the steam from the pot, one could smell 
at once what food was being cooked on every stove 
in the town. That certainly was something different 
from a rose. 

Now the Princess was out walking with all her maids 
of honor, and when she heard the melody she stood 
still and looked* quite pleased; for she, too, could play 
“Oh, my darling Augustine.” It was the only thing she 
could play, and she played it with one finger. 

“Why, that’s the one I play!” she cried. “He must 
be a refined swineherd! Do run in and ask him the 
price of that instrument.” 

So one of the maids of honor hadl to run in; but 
first she put on wooden shoes. 

“What do you want for the pot?” said the lady. 

“I want ten kisses from the Princess,” said the swine¬ 
herd. 

“Mercy on us!” said the maid of honor. 

“Well, I won’t sell it for less,” said the swineherd. 

“Well, what did he say?” asked the Princess. 

“I really can’t say it, it is so awful,” said the lady. 

“Well, you can whisper it then.” And the lady whis¬ 
pered it to her.—“But he’s naughty,” said the Prin¬ 
cess; and she went away. But when she had gone a 
little way, the bells sounded so prettily— 

Oh, my darling Augustine, 

All is lost, all is lost. 

“Listen,” said the Princess, “ask him if he will take 
ten kisses from my maids of honor.” 


THE SWINEHERD 


135 


“No, thanks,” said the swineherd, “ten kisses from 
the Princess, or I shall keep my pot.” 

“What a bore this is!” said the Princess. “But 
3 r °u’ll have to stand around me so that nobody will see.” 

And the maids of honor stood around her, and then 
they spread out their dresses, and then the swineherd 
got the ten kisses, and she got the pot. 

Well, then they had fun. The pot had to boil the 
whole evening and the whole day. They knew what 
was being cooked on every single stove in the town, 
both at the court chamberlain’s and at the shoemaker’s. 
The maids of honor danced and clapped their hands. 

“We know who’s going to have sweet soup and pan¬ 
cakes. We know who’s going to have porridge and 
veal cutlets ! How interesting that is !” 

“Very interesting,” said the head mistress of the cere¬ 
monies. 

“Yes, but keep your mouth shut, for I’m the Em¬ 
peror’s daughter!” 

“Mercy on us!” said they all together. 

The swineherd, that is to say, the Prince—but of 
course they did not know but that he was a real swine¬ 
herd—let no day pass by without doing something, 
and so he made a rattle; when anybody swung this 
rattle, it played all the waltzes, jigs, and polkas that 
have been known since the creation of the world. 

“But that is superbe!” said the Princess, as she went 
past. “I -have never heard a finer composition. Listen ! 
run in and ask what the instrument costs ; but no kisses !” 

“He wants a hundred kisses from the Princess,” said 
the maid of honor who had gone in to ask. 

“I think he’s craz}^!” said the Princess; and she 
went away; but when she had gone a little way she 
stood still. “One must encourage art,” she said. “I 
am the Emperor’s daughter! Tell him he can have 
ten kisses, like yesterday, and he can take the rest 
from my maids of honor.” 



136 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“Oh, but we hate to!” said the maids of honor. 

“That’s all nonsense!” said the Princess, “and if I 
can allow myself to be kissed, you can too; remember, 
I give you your board and keep.” 

And so the maid of honor had to go in and see 
him again. 

“A hundred kisses from the Princess,” he said, “or 
each shall keep his own.” 

“Stand around me,” she said; and all the maids of 
honor stood around, and he began kissing. 

“What can that crowd be down there by the pig¬ 
sty?” said the Emperor, who had stepped out on the 
balcony. He rubbed his eyes, and put on his specta¬ 
cles. “Why, it’s the maids of honor, who are up 
to something; I shall have to go down to them.” 

And he pulled up his slippers behind, for they were 
shoes that he had trodden down at heel. Good gracious, 
how he hurried! When he came down in the court¬ 
yard, he went quite softly, and the maids of honor 
were too busy counting the kisses, so that everything 
would be fair and he wouldn’t get too many or too few, 
that they didn’t notice the Emperor. Then he stood 
on tiptoe. 

“What’s that?” he said, when he saw that there was 
kissing going on; and he hit them on the head with his 
slipper, just as the swineherd was taking the eighty- 
sixth kiss. 

“Get out!” said the Emperor, for he was angry, and 
both the Princess and the swineherd were put out of 
his empire. 

She stood there now and cried and the swineherd 
scolded and the rain poured down. 

“Oh, what a miserable girl I am!” said the Princess; 
“if I had only taken the handsome Prince! Oh, how 
unhappy I am!” 

Then the swineherd went behind a tree, washed the 
brown and black from his face, threw off the shabby 


THE SWINEHERD 


137 


clothes, and stepped out in his royal robes, so hand¬ 
some that the Princess had to curtsy to him. 

“I have learned to despise you,” he said. “You didn’t 
want an honest Prince! You had no use for the rose 
and the nightingale, but you could kiss the swineherd 
for a toy ! This serves you right, now!” 

And then he went into his kingdom and shut the door 
and barred it, and then she could stand outside and 
sing: 

Oh, my darling Augustine, 

All is lost, all is lost! 



3iA.> f: 



Y OU know, of course, that in China the 
Emperor is a Chinaman, and all the peo¬ 
ple around him are Chinamen too. It 
happened a good many years ago, but 

__ that’s just why it’s worth while to hear 

the story, before it is forgotten. The Emperor’s 
palace was the most splendid in the world; entirely 
and altogether made of porcelain, so costly, but so 
brittle, so difficult to handle that one had to be terribly 
careful. In the garden were to be seen the strangest 
flowers, and to the most splendid of them silver bells were 
tied, which tinkled so that nobody should pass by with¬ 
out noticing the flowers. Oh, the Emperor’s garden had 
been laid out very smartly, and it extended so far that 
the gardener himself didn’t know where the end was. If 
you went on and on, you came into the loveliest forest 
with high trees and deep lakes. The forest went right 
down to the sea, which was blue and deep; tall ships 
could sail right in under the branches of the trees; and 
in the trees lived a Nightingale, which sang so sweetly 
that even the poor fisherman, who had many other 

138 






THE NIGHTINGALE 


139 


things to do, stopped still and listened, when he had 
gone out at night to take up his nets, and then heard 
the Nightingale. 

“Dear me, isn’t that nice!” he said; but he had to 
attend to his business, and forgot the bird. But the 
next night when the bird sang again, and the fisherman 
was out there he said the same thing, “Dear me, isn’t 
that very nice!” 

From all the countries of the world travelers came 
to the city of the Emperor, and admired it, and the 
palace and the garden, but when they heard the Night¬ 
ingale, they said, “That is the best of all!” 

And the travelers told about it when they came home; 
and the learned men wrote many books about the city, 
the palace, and the garden. But they did not forget 
the Nightingale; that was placed highest of all; and 
those who were poets wrote the loveliest poems about 
the Nightingale in the forest by the deep sea. 

The books w T ent through all the world, and a few of 
them once came to the Emperor. He sat in his golden 
chair, and read, and read: every moment he nodded his 
head, for it pleased him to read the splendid descrip¬ 
tions of the city, the palace, and the garden. “But 
the Nightingale is the best of all,” it stood written 
there. 

“What’s that!” said the Emperor. “The Nightin¬ 
gale ! I don’t know that at all! Is there such a bird in 
my empire, and even in my own garden? I’ve never 
heard of that. I had to find it in a book!” 

And then he called his cavalier. This cavalier was 
so grand that if any one lower in rank than himself dared 
to speak to him, or to ask him any question, he answered 
nothing but “P!”—and that doesn’t mean anything. 

“They tell me that we have here a highly remarkable 
bird called a Nightingale!” said the Emperor. “They 
say it is the best thing in all my great empire. Why 
haven’t I ever been told about this?” 


140 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“I have never before heard anybody mention it,” said 
the cavalier. “It has never been presented at court.” 

“I command that it shall appear this evening, and 
sing before me,” said the Emperor. “It seems that all 
the world knows what I possess, except myself.” 

“I have never heard it mentioned,” said the cavalier. 
“I will look for it. I will find it.” 

But where was it to be found? The cavalier ran up 
and down all the stairs, through halls and corridors, but 
no one among all those whom he met had ever heard 
of the nightingale. And the cavalier ran back to the 
Emperor, and said that it must be a fable invented by 
the writers of books. 

“Your Imperial Majesty mustn’t believe the things 
people write; it’s nothing but lies and something called 
the black art!” 

“But the book in which I read this,” said the Em¬ 
peror, “was sent to me by the high, and mighty Emperor 
of Japan, and therefore it cannot be a lie. I will hear 
the Nightingale! It must be here this evening! It has 
my imperial favor; and if it does not come, the whole ‘ 
court will be punched on the stomach after the court 
has eaten its supper !” 

“Tsing-pe!” said the cavalier; and again he ran up 
and down all the stairs, and through all the halls and 
corridors; and half the court ran with him, because they 
didn’t like being punched on the stomach. 

Ever so many questions were asked about this remark¬ 
able Nightingale, which all the world knew excepting 
the people at court. 

At last they met a poor little girl in the kitchen, who 
said: 

“Heavens, yes, the Nightingale? I know it very well; 
yes, it certainly can sing! Every evening I am allowed 
to carry my poor sick mother the scraps from the table. 
She lives down by the strand, and when I walk back and 
am tired, and rest in the wood, then I hear the Nigh tin- 














































































































THE NIGHTINGALE 


141 


gale sing. And then the tears come into my eyes, and 
it is just as if my mother kissed me!” 

“Little kitchen maid,” said the cavalier, “I will get 
her a permanent appointment in the kitchen, with per¬ 
mission to see the Emperor dine, if she will lead us to 
the Nightingale, for it is announced for this evening.” 

So they all went out into the wood where the Nightin¬ 
gale usually sang; half the court went along. When 
they were in the midst of their journey a cow began to 
low. 

“Oh!” said all the court cavaliers, “there it is! that’s 
really a remarkable power in so small a creature! I 
have certainly heard it before.” 

“No, those are cows lowing!” said the little kitchen 
maid. “We are a long way from the place yet.” 

Now the frogs began to croak in the pool. 

“Glorious!” said the Chinese court preacher. “Now 
I can hear it—it sounds just like little church bells.” 

“No, those are frogs,” said the little kitchen maid. 
“But now I think we shall soon hear it.” 

And then the Nightingale began to sing. 

“That is it!” said the little girl. “Listen, listen! 
and it’s sitting there!” 

And she pointed to a little gray bird up in the boughs. 

“Is it possible?” said the cavalier. “I should never 
have thought it looked like that! How plain it looks! 
I suppose it lost its color at seeing so many aristo¬ 
cratic visitors.” 

“Little Nightingale!” called the little kitchen maid, 
quite loudly, “our gracious Emperor would so like you 
to sing for him.” 

“With the greatest pleasure !” said the Nightingale, 
and began to sing most delightfully. 

“It sounds just like glass bells!” said the cavalier. 
“And look at its little throat, how it’s working! It’s 
strange we’ve never heard it before. It will have a great 
success at court.” 



142 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“Shall I sing once more for the Emperor?” asked 
the Nightingale, for it thought the Emperor was present. 

“My excellent little Nightingale,” said the cavalier, 
“I have great pleasure in inviting you to a court festival 
this evening, when you shall enchant his High and Im¬ 
perial Majesty with'your charmante singing.” 

“My song sounds best in the green wood!” said the 
Nightingale; still it came willingly when it heard that 
the Emperor wanted it. 

In the palace everything was wonderfully fixed up. 
The walls and the flooring, which were of porcelain, 
gleamed in the raj^s of thousands of golden lamps. The 
loveliest flowers, those that tinkled best, had been placed 
in the passages. There was a running to and fro, and 
a draught, and then all the bells rang so loudly that one 
could'not hear oneself speak. 

In the midst of the great hall, where the Emperor 
sat, a golden perch had been placed, on which the Night¬ 
ingale was to sit. The w T hole court was there, and the 
little kitchen maid had been allowed to stand behind the 
door, as she had now received the title of a Regular 
Cook. All were in full dress, and all looked at the little 
gray bird, to which the Emperor nodded. 

And the Nightingale sang so beautifully that the tears 
came into the Emperor’s eyes, and the tears ran down 
over his cheeks ; and then the Nightingale sang still more 
sweetly, so that its song went straight to the heart. The 
Emperor was so much pleased that he said the Nightin¬ 
gale should have his golden slipper to wear around its 
neck. But the Nightingale thanked him and said it had 
already had reward enough. 

“I have seen tears in the Emperor’s eyes—there is 
no richer treasure for me. An Emperor’s tears have a 
strange power. I aim rewarded enough!” And then it 
sang again with its marvelously sweet voice. 

“Isn’t it too darling?” said the ladies who stood 
around, and then they took water in their mouths to 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


143 


gurgle when any one spoke to them. Then they thought 
they were nightingales too. And the lackeys and cham¬ 
bermaids reported that they were satisfied too; and that 
was saying a good deal, for they are the most difficult 
to please. In short, the Nightingale had a real success. 

It was now to remain at court, to have its own cage, 
with liberty to go out twice every day and once at night. 
Twelve servants came along when the Nightingale went 
out, each of whom had a silken string fastened to the 
bird’s leg, which they held very tight. There was 
really no pleasure in an excursion of that kind. 

The whole city spoke of the remarkable bird, and 
when two people met, one said nothing but “Nightin,” 
and the other said “gale”; and then they sighed, and 
understood one another. Eleven* grocers’ children were 
named after the bird, but not one of them could sing 
a note. 

One day the Emperor received a large parcel, on 
which was written “The Nightingale.” 

“Here we have a new book about this celebrated bird,” 
said the Emperor. 

But it was not a book, but a little work of art, lying 
in a box, an artificial nightingale, which was supposed 
to look like the living one, but it was decorated with 
diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. So soon as the arti¬ 
ficial bird was wound up, it could sing one of the pieces 
that the real one sang, and then its tail moved up and 
down, and glittered with silver and gold. Round its 
neck hung a little ribbon, and on that was written, “The 
Emperor of Japan’s nightingale is poor compared to 
that of the Emperor of China.” 

“Isn’t that lovely?” they all said, and he who had 
brought the artificial bird immediately received the title, 
Imperial Head-Nightingale-Bringer. 

“Now they must sing together ; what a duet that will 
be 1” 

And so they had to sing together; but it did not sound 


144 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


very well, for the real Nightingale sang in its own way, 
and the artificial bird played a record. 

“That’s not its fault,” said the music master, “it 
keeps perfect time and very much in my style.” 

Now the artificial bird was to sing alone. It made 
just as much of a hit as the real one, and then it was 
much handsomer to look at—it shone like bracelets and 
breastpins. 

Three and thirty times over it sang the same piece, 
still it was not tired. The people would gladly have 
heard it again, but the Emperor said that the living 
Nightingale ought to sing something now. But where 
was it? No one had noticed that it had flown away out 
of the open window, back to the green wood. 

“But what in all the world is this ?” said the Emperor. 

And all the courtiers scolded the Nightingale, and 
declared that it was a very ungrateful creature. 

“We have the best bird, after all,” they said. 

And so the artificial bird had to sing again, and that 
was the thirty-fourth time that they listened to the 
same piece, but still they didn’t know it quite by heart, 
for it was so very difficult. And the music master 
praised the bird very highly; yes, he declared that it 
was better than the real Nightingale, not only with 
regard to its plumage and the many beautiful diamonds, 
but inside as well. 

“For you see, ladies and gentlemen, and above all, 
your Imperial Majesty, with a real Nightingale one can 
never calculate what is coming, but in this artificial bird 
everything is settled. It is this way, and no other! One 
can explain it; one can open it and show how it’s almost 
human; show where the records are, and how they play 
and how one thing depends on another—!” 

“That’s just what I was thinking,” they all said. 

And the speaker received permission to show the bird 
to the people on the next Sunday. The people were 
to hear it sing, too, the Emperor commanded; and they 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


145 


did hear it, and were as much pleased as if they had all 
got gay by drinking tea, for that’s quite the Chinese 
fashion; and they all said, “Oh!” and held up their 
forefingers and nodded. But the poor fisherman who 
had heard the real Nightingale said: 

“It sounds pretty enough, and it sounds like the 
other, but there’s something missing; I don’t know what 
it is.” 

The real Nightingale was banished from the country. 
The artificial bird had its place on a silken cushion close 
to the Emperor’s bed; all the presents it had received, 
gold and precious stones, lay around it; in title it had 
advanced to be the High Imperial Night-Table-Singer, 
and in rank to number one on the left; for the Emperor 
considered that side the most important on which the 
heart is placed, and even in an Emperor the heart is 
on the left side; and the music master wrote a work of 
five-and-twenty volumes about the artificial bird; it was 
very learned and very long, full of the most difficult 
Chinese words; but still everybody said that they had 
read it and understood it, because otherwise they would 
have been stupid and would have had their stomachs 
punched. 

So a whole year went by. The Emperor, the Court, 
and all the other Chinese knew every little gurgle in the 
artificial bird’s song by heart. And that was just why 
they liked it, then they could sing it too, and so they 
did. The street boys sang, “Tsi-tsi-tsi-glug-glug!” and 
the Emperor himself sang it too! Oh, it was certainly 
wonderful! 

But one evening, when the artificial bird was singing 
its best, and the Emperor lay in bed listening to it, 
something inside the bird said, “Whizz!” Something 
cracked. “Whir-r!” All the wheels ran round, and 
then the music stopped. 

The Emperor jumped out of bed right away and sent 
for his own doctor; but what could he do ? Then they 


146 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


sent for a watchmaker, and after a good deal of talking 
and looking, the bird was put into something like order; 
but the watchmaker said that the bird must be carefully 
treated, for the pivots were worn, and it would be im¬ 
possible to put new ones in in such- a manner that the 
music would go. There was great lamentation; only 
once in a year w r as it permitted to let the bird sing, and 
that was almost too much. But then the music master 
made a little speech, full of the difficult words, and said 
it w r as just as good as before—and so^ of course it was 
as good as before. 

Now five years had gone by, and a real grief came on 
the whole nation. The Chinese did, after all, like their 
Emperor very much, and now he was ill, and they said 
he couldn’t live much longer. Already a new Emperor 
had been chosen, and the people stood out in the street 
and asked the cavalier how their old Emperor was. 

“P!” he said, and shook his head. 

Cold and pale the Emperor lay in his big gorgeous 
bed; the whole court thought him dead, and each one 
ran to bow to the new Emperor. The chamberlains ran 
out to talk it over, and the ladies’ maids had a large 
coffee party. Everywhere, in all the halls and passages, 
cloth had been laid down so that no footstep could be 
heard, and therefore it w r as so still, so still. But the 
Emperor w r as not dead yet; stiff and pale he lay on the 
gorgeous bed with the long velvet curtains and the heavy 
gold tassels; high up, a window stood open, and the 
moon shone in on the Emperor and the artificial bird. 

The poor Emperor could scarcely breathe; it was 
just as if something sat on his chest; he opened his eyes, 
and then he saw that it w^as Death who sat on his chesty 
and had put on his golden crown, and held in one hand 
the Emperor’s gold sword, and in the other his beauti¬ 
ful banner. And all around, from the folds of the big 
velvet bed curtains, strange heads peered forth; some 
ugly, others lovely and mild. These were all the Em- 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


147 


peror’s bad and good deeds looking at him now that 
Death sat on his heart. 

*‘Do you remember this?” whispered one after the 
other, “Do you remember that?” and then they told 
him so much that the sweat ran from his forehead. 

“I never knew that!” said the Emperor. “Music! 
music! the big Chinese drum!” he called, “so that 
I won’t hear everything they say!” 

And they kept on, and Death nodded like a Chinaman 
to all they said. 

“Music! music!” cried the Emperor. “My blessed 
little golden bird, sing, sing! I have given you gold and 
costly presents; I have even hung my golden slipper 
around your neck—sing now, sing!” 

But the bird stood still; no one was there to wind 
it up, and it couldn’t sing without that; but Death 
kept on looking at the Emperor with his great hollow 
eyes, and all was so still, so terribly still. 

Just then the loveliest song sounded close by the 
window. It was the little live Nightingale, that sat 
outside on a spray. It had heard of the Emperor’s 
danger, and had come to sing to him of comfort and 
hope. And as it sang, the specters grew paler and 
paler; the blood ran quicker and quicker through the 
Emperor’s weak body; and even Death listened, and 
said: 

“Go on, little Nightingale, go on!” 

“But will you give me that splendid golden sword? 
Will you give me that rich banner? Will you give me 
the Emperor’s crown?” 

And Death gave up each treasure for a song. And 
the Nightingale sang on and on; and it sang of the 
quiet churchyard where the white roses grow, where the 
elder blossom smells sweet, and where the fresh grass 
is moistened by the tears of survivors. Then Death 
felt a longing for his garden, and floated like a cold 
white mist out of the window. 


148 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“I thank you, thank you!” said the Emperor. “You 
heavenly little bird! I know you well. I drove you 
from my country, and yet you have sung away the 
evil faces from my bed, and taken Death from my heart! 
How can I reward you?” 

“You have rewarded me!” said the Nightingale. “I 
have drawn tears from your eyes, when I sang the first 
time—I shall never forget that. Those are the jewels 
that do a singer’s heart good. But now sleep and grow 
fresh and strong again. I will sing for you.” 

And it sang, and the Emperor fell into a sweet sleep. 
Ah, how mild and refreshing that sleep was! The sun 
shone on him through the windows, when he woke up 
strong and well; not one of his servants had come back 
yet, for they all thought he was dead; only the Nightin¬ 
gale still sat beside him and sang. 

“You must always stay with me,” said the Emperor. 
“You shall sing only when you please; and I’ll break 
the artificial bird into a thousand pieces.” 

“Don’t do that,” said the Nightingale. “It did as 
well as it could; keep it as you have done till now. I 
cannot live in the palace, but let me come when I want 
to; then I will sit in the evening on the branch there by 
the window, and sing you something, so that you may 
be glad and thoughtful at once. I will sing of those 
who are happy and of those who suffer. I will sing of 
the good and the evil that people hide around you. The 
little singing bird flies far around, to the poor fisher¬ 
man, to the peasant’s roof, to every one who dwells far 
away from you and your court. I love your heart more 
than your crown, and yet the crown has something holy 
about it. I will come, I will sing to you—but one thing 
you must promise me.” 

“Everything!” said the Emperor; and he stood there 
in his imperial robes, which he had put on himself, and 
pressed the sword which was heavy with gold to his 
heart. 



THE NIGHTINGALE 


149 


‘‘One thing I beg of you: tell no one that you have 
a little bird who tells you everything. Then things will 
be even better.” 

And the Nightingale flew away. 

The servants came in to look at their dead Emperor, 
and—well, there they were, and the Emperor said “Good 
morning!” 














<5^ *Jbe JDuchling 



r was perfectly lovely out in the country; 
it was summer. The corn was yellow, the 
oats were green, the hay stood in stacks 
down in the green meadows and there the 
stork was walking around on his long red 
legs and talking Egyptian, because he had learned that 
language from his mother. Around field and meadow 
were big woods, and deep lakes were in the middle of 
the woods; it was really lovely out in the country! 

Right in the sunshine lay an old manor, sur¬ 
rounded by deep canals, and from the wall down to the 
water grew big burdock leaves, so high that little chil¬ 
dren could stand upright under the tallest of them. It 
was just as wild there as in the thickest wood. Here 
sat a duck on her nest, hatching out her little ducklings, 
but now she was almost tired of it, because it took such 
a long time; and then she so seldom had visitors. The 
other ducks liked better to swim around in the canals 
than to run up to sit down under a burdock, and gossip 
with her. 

150 



































THE UGLY DUCKLING 


151 


At last one eggshell after another began to crack. 
“Piep! piep!” it said in them; all the egg yolks were 
alive and stuck out their heads. 

“Quack ! quack!” she said; and they all came tumbling 
out as fast«as they could, looking all round them under 
the green leaves; and the mother let them look as much 
as they wanted to, for green is good for the eyes. 

“How big the world is!” said the young ones, for 
they certainly had much more room now than when they 
were in the eggs. 

“Do you think this is all the world?” asked the 
mother. “It reaches away past the other side of the 
garden, right into the minister’s field, but I have never 
been there. I hope you are all here now,” and then she 
stood up. “No, I haven’t got you all. The largest egg 
is still lying there. How long is that going to last? I 
am really tired of it.” And she sat down again. 

“Well, how goes it?” asked an old duck who had 
come to pay her a visit. 

“It takes a long time with that one egg,” said the 
duck who sat there. “It won’t crack, but I’ll show you 
the others now; they’re the loveliest ducklings I ever 
saw. They are all like their father, the wretch! he 
never comes to see me.” 

“Let me see that egg that won’t crack,” said the old 
duck. “I tell you it’s a turkey egg. I was fooled that 
way once too, and I had my troubles and trials with 
those young ones, because they’re afraid of the water, 
let me tell you ! I couldn’t get them out. I quacked and 
snapped but it didn’t help. Let me see the egg. Yes, 
that’s a turkey egg! You just let that lie there, and 
teach the other children to swim.” 

“I think I will sit on it a little longer,” said the duck. 
“I’ve sat so long now that I can sit a few days more.” 

“Just as you please,” said the old duck; and she 
went away. 

At last the big egg cracked. “Piep! piep!” said the 


152 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 



little one, and rolled out; it was so large and so ugly. 
The duck looked at it. 

“What a terribly big duckling that is,” she said; 
“none of the others look like that. I wonder could it 
really be a turkey chick? Well, we’ll soon find that 
out. Into the water it must go, even if I have to kick 
it in mvself.” 

4 / 

The next day the weather was simply lovely, and the 
sun shone on all the green burdocks. The mother duck 
went down to the water with her whole family. Splash, 
she jumped into the water. “Quack! quack!” she said, 
and one duckling after another plunged in. The water 
closed over their heads, but they came up in an instant, 
and floated beautifully; their legs went of themselves, 
and there they were all in the water, even the ugly gray 
one was swimming too. 

“No, it’s not a turkey,” she said, “look how well it 
uses its legs, and how straight it holds itself. It is my 
own child. On the whole it’s quite pretty, if one really 
looks at it. Quack! quack! come with me, and I’ll 
lead you out into the great world, and present you in 
the duck yard; but keep close to me, so that nobody will 
step on you, and look out for the cat!” 

And so they came into the duck yard. There was a 
terrible noise there, for two families were fighting 
about an eel’s head, and the cat got it after all. 

“Well, that’s the way of the world!” said the mother 
duck; and she licked her beak, for she, too, wanted the 















THE UGLY DUCKLING 


153 


eel’s head. “Use jour legs, now,” she said. “Step 
lively and bow your necks to the old duck over there! 
She’s the grandest person here, her family is Spanish, 
that’s why she’s fat, and do you see the red rag she’s 
wearing around her leg! That’s something very, very 
wonderful; it’s the greatest distinction any duck can 
get; it means that people don’t want to lose her and that 
she’s to be recognized by man and beast. Step lively 
now—don’t turn in your toes; a well-brought-up duck 
turns its toes way out, just like father and mother, so! 
Now bend your necks and say ‘Quack!’ ” 

And they did so; but the other ducks round about 
looked at them, and said right out loud: 

“Look there! now w r e’re going to have that mob too, 
as if there weren’t enough of us already. And—pfui! 
what a funny looking duckling that one there is; we 
won’t stand him!” And one duck flew over at once, and 
bit it in the neck. 

“Let him alone,” said the mother, “he doesn’t do 
anybody any harm.” 

“Yes, but he’s too large and peculiar,” said the duck 
who had bitten it, “and so we’ll have to show him!” 

“Mother has some pretty children there,” said the 
old duck with the rag round her leg. “They’re all 
pretty but that one; that was a failure. I wish she 
could make it over again.” 

“Can’t be done, your Grace,” said the mother duck: 
“he isn’t pretty, but he has a lovely disposition and 
swims as well as any other; I may even say he swims 
better. I think he’ll grow up pretty, and become smaller 
in time; he lay too long in the egg, and so he wasn’t 
shaped right.” And then she patted it on the neck, 
and smoothed its feathers. “Anyway, he’s a drake,” 
she said, “and so it doesn’t make much difference. I 
think he will be very strong: he will make his way all 
right.” 

“The other ducklings are charming!” said the old 


154 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 



duck. “Make yourselves at home; and if you find an 
eel’s head, you may bring it to me.” 

And so they made themselves at home. But the 
poor Duckling who came out of the egg last, and looked 
so ugly, was bitten and pushed and made fun of, both 
by the ducks and by the chickens. 

“He’s too big!” they all said. And the turkey-cock, 
who had been born with spurs, and therefore thought 
he was an emperor, blew himself up like a ship in full 
sail, and went right up to him; then he gobbled, and 
got quite red in the face. The poor Duckling didn’t 
know where to go; it was so sad because it looked ugly, 
and was made fun of by the whole yard. 

That was how the first day went; and afterward it 
got worse and worse. The poor Duckling was chased 
by everybody; even its brothers and sisters were horrid 
to it and always said, “I hope the cat takes you, you 




























THE UGLY DUCKLING 


155 


awful sight I” And the mother said, “If you were only 
far away!” And the ducks bit him, ’and the chickens 
pecked at him, and the girl who had to feed the poultry 
kicked at him with her foot. 

Then he ran and flew over the fence, and the little 
birds in the bushes flew up in fear. 

“That is because I am so ugly!” thought the Duck¬ 
ling; and shut its eyes, but ran away anyhow, and so it 
came out into the big marsh, where the wild ducks lived. 
Here it lay the whole night long; and it was so tired 
and so sad. 

Toward morning the wild ducks flew up, and looked 
at their new companion. 

“What might you be?” they asked; and the Duck¬ 
ling turned in every direction, and bowed as well as 
it could. “You are remarkably ugly!” said the wild 
ducks. “But that’s all the same to us, so long as you 
do not marry into our family.” 

Poor thing! he certainly wasn’t thinking of marry¬ 
ing; all he wanted was to lie among the reeds and 
drink some of the swamp water. 

He lay there two whole days; then two wild geese 
came, or, properly speaking, two wild ganders. They 
had come out of the egg only a little while ago, and 
that’s why they were so lively. 

“Listen, comrade,” said one of them. “You’re so 
ugly that I like you. Come along with us and be a 
bird of passage? Near here, in another marsh, there 
are some sweet, lovely wild geese, all unmarried, and 
all able to say ‘Quack!’ You’ve a chance of making 
your fortune, you’re so ugly!” 

“Piff! paff!” resounded through the air; and the 
tw r o ganders fell down dead in the swamp, and the 
water got blood-red. “Piff! paff!” it sounded again, 
and whole flocks of wild geese rose up from the 
reeds. And then there w r as another crash. A big 
hunt w’as going on. The hunters w r ere lying in wait 


156 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


all around the marsh, and some were even sitting up 
in the branches of the trees, which spread far over 
the reeds. The blue smoke rose up like clouds among 
the dark trees, and hung far across the water; and 
the hunting dogs came—splash, splash!—into the mud, 
and the rushes and the reeds bent down on every side. 
It was a terrible scare for the poor Duckling! It 
turned its head to put it under its wing; but at that 
moment a dreadfully big dog stood close by. His 
tongue hung far out of his mouth and his eyes gleamed 
horrible and ugly; he put his jaws right down to the 
Duckling, showed his sharp teeth, and—splash, splash! 
—on he went, without seizing it. 

“Oh, Heaven be thanked!” sighed the Duckling. “I 
am so ugly that even the dog doesn’t want to bite me!” 

And so it lay quite quiet, while the bullets rattled 
through the reeds and shot after shot crashed out. At 
last, late in the day, it was quiet; but the poor Duckling 
did not dare to get up; it waited several hours before 
it looked around, and then it hurried away from the 
marsh as fast as it could. It ran on over field and 
meadow; the wind blew so much it could hardly go 
against it. 

Toward evening it came to a poor little farmhouse; 
it was such a wretched little house that it didn’t know 
what side to fall on, and so it kept on standing. The 
storm whistled round the Duckling, so much that he 
had to sit right down on his tail to keep from falling, 
and it got worse and worse. Then he noticed that the 
door had slipped off one of its hinges and hung so 
crooked that he could slip into the room through the 
crack, and he did. 

Here lived an old woman, with her Cat and her Hen. 
And the Cat, whom she called Sonnie, could arch his 
back and purr, he could even give out sparks; but for 
that one had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The 
Hen had very little short legs, and therefore she was 



THE UGLY DUCKLING 


15 ? 


called Cluck 3 7 -shortlegs; she laid good eggs, and the 
woman loved her as her own child. 

In the morning they saw the strange Duckling right 
away, and the Cat began to purr, and the Hen to 
cluck. 

“What’s this?” said the woman, and looked all 
around; but she couldn’t see well, and so she thought 
the Duckling was a fat duck that had lost its way. 
“Isn’t this a nice catch?” she said. “Now I shall have 
duck’s eggs. I hope it is not a drake. We must try 
that.” 

And so the Duckling was admitted on trial for three 
weeks; but no eggs came. And the Cat was master 
of the house, and the Hen was the lady, and they 
always said “We and the world!” for they thought 
they were half the world, and by far the better half. 
The Duckling thought one might have a different opin¬ 
ion, but the Hen wouldn’t stand for that. 

“Can you lay eggs?” she asked. 

“No.” 

“Then you’ll please to hold your tongue.” 

And the Cat said, “Can you curve your back, and 
purr, and sparkle?” 

“No.” 

“Then you’d better not offer any opinions when 

sensible people are speaking.” 

And the Duckling sat in a corner feeling very badly; 
then it happened to think about fresh air and sun¬ 
shine; and it w T as seized with such a stiange longing 
to float on the water, and at last it couldn’t help itself; 
it had to tell the Hen. 

“What’s the matter with you?” asked the Hen. “You 
have nothing to do, that’s why you get these notions. 

Purr or lay eggs, and they will go away.” 

“But it’s so lovely to float on the water!” said the 
Duckling, “so lovely to let it close over the head, and 
to dive down to the bottom.” 


158 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“Yes, that must certainly be a great pleasure!” said 
the Hen. “I think you must have gone crazy. Ask 
the Cat about it,—he’s the cleverest thing I know,— 
ask him if he likes to float on the water, or to dive 
down; I won’t speak about myself. Ask our mistress, 
the old woman; no one in the world is cleverer than 
she. Do you think she wants to float, and to get water 
over her head?” 

“You don’t understand me,” said the Duckling. 

“Well, if we don’t understand you I’d like to know 
who does! You surely don’t want to set yourself up 
to be wiser than the cat or the woman, not to mention 
myself! Don’t put on airs, child! You’d better thank 
your Maker for all the good people have done for you. 
Didn’t you get into a warm room, and into company 
from which you may learn something? But you’re a 
chatterbox, and it is not pleasant to associate with 
you. You may believe me, I’m saying this for your 
own good. I tell you disagreeable things, and that’s 
the only way of knowing one’s true friends! Just learn 
to lay eggs, now, or to purr or to sparkle!” 

“I think I will go out into the wide world,” said the 
Duckling. 

“Yes, do go,” said the Hen. 

And the Duckling went away. It floated on the 
water, and dived, but it was looked down on by every 
animal because of its ugliness. 

Now came the autumn. The leaves in the forest 
turned yellow and brown; the wind sent them dancing 
around and there was a high chill in the air. The clouds 
hung heavy with hail and snowflakes, and on the fence 
stood the raven, screaming with the cold; it was enough 
to make one freeze to think of it. The poor little 
Duckling certainly had a very bad time. One evening 
—the sun was just setting most beautifully—a whole 
flock of big handsome birds came out of the bushes; 
the Duckling had never before seen anything so beau- 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


159 


tiful; they were dazzlingly white, with long flexible 
necks; they were swans. They uttered a very strange 
cry, spread their large, splendid wings, and flew away 
from that cold country to warmer lands, to open lakes. 
They mounted so high, so high, that the ugly little 
Duckling had a very strange sensation; it turned round 
and round in the w r ater like a wheel, stretched out its 
neck toward them, and gave a cry so loud and queer 
that it frightened itself. Oh! it could not forget those 
lovely birds, those happy birds; and when it couldn’t 
see them any more it dived down to the very bottom, 
and when it came up again it was quite beside itself. 
It didn’t know the name of those birds, and didn’t know 
where they were flying; but it loved them more than 
it had ever loved any one. It didn’t envy them at all, 
it wouldn’t have dared to think of wishing such beauty 
for itself; it would have been happy even if only the 
ducks would have let it live among them, the poor ugly 
creature! 

And the winter was so cold, so' cold! The Duckling 
had to swim around in the water, to keep it from 
freezing entirely; but every night the hole in which it 
swam became smaller and smaller. It froze so hard 
that the ice cracked; and the Duckling had to use 
its legs all the time to keep the hole from freezing up. 
At last it became too tired, and lay quite still, and 
froze fast into the ice. 

Early in the morning a farmer came by, and when 
he saw what had happened, he took his wooden shoe, 
broke the ice crust to pieces, and carried the‘Duckling 
home to his wife. Then it came to itself again. The 
children wanted to play wdth it; but the Duckling 
thought they would hurt it, and in its terror fluttered 
up into the milk pan,* so that the milk spurted into the 
room. The woman screamed and clapped her hands, at 
which the Duckling flew down into the butter tub, and 
then into the meal barrel and out again. Well, w 7 hat 


160 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


a sight! The woman screamed, and struck at it with 
the fire tongs; the children tumbled over one another, 
trying to catch the Duckling; and they laughed and 
they screamed! It was a good thing that the door was 
open and it could rush out among the bushes in the 
newly-fallen snow; and there it lay quite exhausted. 

But it would be too sad to tell all the want and misery 
the Duckling had to endure in the hard winter. . 

It lay out on the swamp among the reeds, when the 
sun began to shine again; the larks isang—it was 
beautiful spring. 

Then all at once the Duckling raised its wings: they 
beat the air more strongly than before, and bore it 
strongly away; and before it really knew how all this 
happened, it was in a large garden, w T here the apple 
trees stood in blossom, wdiere the lilac flowers smelt 
sweet, and hung their long green branches down to 
the winding canals. Oh, it w r as so beautiful here, so 
fresh and springlike! and out from the thicket came 
three lovely w T hite swans; they rustled their w r ings, 
and floated so lightly on the water. The Duckling 
knew the splendid creatures, and felt a strange sad¬ 
ness. 

“I will fly over to them, the royal birds! and they 
will kill me, because I, that am so ugly, dare to come 
near them. But I don’t care! Better to be killed by 
them than to be plucked at by the ducks and pecked 
at by the chickens and kicked around by the girl who 
takes care of the duck yard, and to suffer hardships 
in winter!” And it flew out into the water, and swam 
toward the splendid swans; these looked at it, and 
came sailing toward it, ruffling their wings. “Yes, kill 
me!” said the poor creature, and bent its head down 
on the water, and waited for death. But what was this 
that it saw in the clear water? Below it, it saw its 
own image, but it w*as no longer a clumsy dark gray 
bird, hideous and ugly; it was itself a swan. 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


161 


To be bo^n in a duck yard doesn’t make any dif¬ 
ference, if one has only lain in a swan’s egg. 

It was really happy to have suffered all that want 
and misery, because this made it able to appreciate all 
the more the luck and loveliness that now greeted it. 
And the big swans swam around it, and stroked it with 
their beaks. 

Some little children came into the garden; they threw 
bread and corn in the water; and the youngest cried, 
“There is a new one!” and the other children shouted 
joyously, “Yes, a new one has come!” And they 
clapped their hands and danced around, and ran to get 
their father and mother; and they threw bread and cake 
in the water; and they all said, “The new one is the 
most beautiful of all! so young and handsome!” and 
the old swans bowed their heads before it. 

Then it felt quite shy, and hid its head under its 
wings; it hardly knew what to do; it was too happy, 
but not a bit conceited, because a good heart is never 
conceited. It thought of how it had been persecuted 
and mocked at, and now it heard everybody say that 
it was the loveliest of all lovely birds. And the lilacs 
bent their branches right down in the water to it, and 
the sun shone so warm and mild, then it fluffed its 
feathers, lifted its slender neck, and from its heart came 
a cry of joy: 

“I didn’t dream of so much happiness, when I was 
the ugly Duckling!” 









IN SEVEN STORIES 


FIRST STORY— 

WHICH TREATS OF THE MIRROR AND THE PIECES OF IT 


ELL, now we’re going to begin. When 
we are at the end of the story we shall 
know more than we do now, for he was 
•a bad troll. He was one of the very worst, 
for he was the devil himself. One day he 
was in very good humor, for he had made a mirror 
which had this peculiarity, that everything good and 
beautiful which was mirrored in it shrank into almost 
nothing, but whatever was worthless and looked ugly 
was very distinct and looked worse than ever. The 
most lovely landscapes seen in this mirror looked 
like boiled spinach, and the nicest people were hide¬ 
ous, or stood on their heads and had no stomachs; 
their faces were so twisted that you wouldn’t know 
them, and anybody who had a freckle could be sure 
it would cover both nose and mouth. That was very 



162 

































































THE SNOW QUEEN 


163 


amusing, the devil said. When a good, pious thought 
passed through the person’s mind, a grin came in 
the mirror, so that the devil chuckled at his artistic 
invention. Those who went to the troll school—for 
he kept a troll school—declared everywhere that a 
miracle had happened. For now, they said, one 
could see, for the first time, how the world 
and the people in it really looked. They ran about 
with the mirror, and at last there was not a 
single country or person that hadn’t been twisted in 
it. Now they wanted to fly up to heaven, to sneer and 
scoff at the angels and Our Lord themselves. The 
higher they flew with the mirror, the more it grinned; 
they could scarcely hold on to it. They flew higher 
and higher, and then the mirror trembled so terribly 
with its grinning that it fell down out of their hands 
to the earth, where it was shattered into a hundred mil¬ 
lion billion and more pieces. And now this mirror 
made much more unhappiness than before; for some 
of the pieces were hardly as large as a grain of sand 
and these flew around in the wide world, and whenever 
they flew into any one’s eye they stuck there, and those 
people saw everything wrongly, or had only eyes for 
the bad side of a thing, for every little piece of the 
mirror had kept the same power which the whole glass 
had had. A few persons even got a piece of the mirror 
into their hearts, and this was perfectly awful, that 
heart got to be like a lump of ice. Some of the pieces 
were so large that they were used as windowpanes, 
but it was a bad thing to look at one’s friends through 
these panes; other pieces were made into spectacles, 
and then things went wrong when people put those 
spectacles on and wanted to see very clearly and to be 
very just. The Evil One laughed then till his stomach 
cracked, and that tickled him so nicely. But out in 
the world some little pieces of glass were still flying 
around in the air. We’ll hear about that now! 


SECOND STORY- 

A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL 


I N the big city, where there are so many 
houses and so many people that there isn’t 
room enough for every one to have a little 
garden, and where therefore most people 

_ — I have to be satisfied w T ith some flowers in 

flowerpots, there were two poor children anyw r ay, who 
had a garden a little larger than a flowerpot. They 
were not brother and sister, but they loved each other 
just as much as if they had been. Their parents lived 
right close to each other in two garrets, and there 
where the roof of the one house joined that of the 
other’s, and where the gutter ran along the eaves, there 
w r as a little window in each house; one had only to step 
across the gutter to get from one window to the other. 

Each family had a big box outside, and in that 
they grew kitchen herbs that they used, and a little 
rosebush; there was one in each box, and they grew 
beautifully. Now, the parents thought of placing 

164 











THE SNOW QUEEN 165 

the boxes across the gutter, so that they reached from 
one window to another, and looked just like two banks 
of flowers. The peas hung down over the boxes, and 
the rosebushes grew long branches, which clustered 
around the windows and bent down toward each other: 
it was almost like an honor gate of flowers and leaves. 
As the boxes were very high, and the children knew 
that they mustn’t climb up there, they were often al¬ 
lowed to come out between the boxes, and to sit on 
their little benches under the roses, and there they 
had a wonderful time playing. 

In the winter that fun stopped. The windows were 
sometimes frozen all over. But then they warmed cop¬ 
per pennies on the stove, and held the hot coins against 
the frozen.pane; and this made a lovely peephole, so 
round, so round! and behind it peeped a pretty, mild 
eye, one from each window; and it was the little boy 
and the little girl. His name was Kay and the little 
girl’s was Gerda. 

In the summer they could get over to each other 
with one jump, but in the winter they had to go down 
the many stairs and up the many stairs while the snow 
was drifting outside. 

“Those are the white bees swarming,” said the old 
grandmother. 

“Do they have a queen bee, too?” asked the little 
boy, for he knew that there is one among the real 
bees. 

“Yes, they have one,” said the grandmother. “She 
always flies where they swarm thickest. She is the 
largest of them all, and she never stays quietly on 
the earth, she flies back again to the black sky. Many 
a winter night she flies through the streets of the town, 
and looks in at the windows, and then they freeze in 
such a queer way, and look like flowers.” 

“Yes, I’ve seen that!” said both the children; and 
now they knew that it was true. 


166 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“Can the Snow Queen come in here?” asked the little 
girl. 

“Just let her try,” said the boy; “I’ll put her on 
the warm stove, and then she’ll melt.” 

But the grandmother smoothed his hair, and told some 
other stories. 

In the evening, when little Kay was at home and 
half undressed, he climbed up on the chair by the win¬ 
dow, and peeped through the little hole. A few flakes 
of snow were falling outside, and one of them, the 
largest of them all, stayed on the edge of one of the 
flower boxes. The snowflakes grew larger and larger, 
and at last it turned into a whole woman clothed in 
the finest white gauze, made out of millions of starlike 
snowflakes. She w T as beautiful and delicate, but of 
ice—of dazzling, glittering ice. Still she was alive; her 
eyes looked like two clear stars, but there was no peace 
or rest in them. She nodded toward the window, and 
beckoned with her hand. The little boy was fright¬ 
ened and jumped down from the chair; then it seemed 
as if a large bird flew by outside, past the window. 

Next day there was a clear frost, then there was 
a thaw, and then the spring came; the sun shone, the 
green peeped out, the swallows built nests, the windows 
were opened, and the little children sat again in their 
garden high up in the gutter, over all the floors. 

The roses had never bloomed so 'wonderfully as that 
summer. The little girl had learned a hymn, and there 
was something in that about roses, and, in speaking of 
roses, she thought of her own; and she sang it to the 
little boy, and*he sang, too: 

The roses in the valley grow, 

Where we the infant Christ shall know. 

And the children held each- other by the hand, kissed 
the roses, looked at God’s bright sunshine, and spoke 
to it, as if the Christ-child were there. What beau- 



THE SNOW QUEEN 167 

tiful summer days those were, and how lovely it was 
to be outside, among’ the fresh rosebushes, which 
seemed as if they would never stop blooming. 

Kay and Gerda were sitting and looking at the 
picture book with animals and birds. Then it was— 
the clock was just striking five on the church tower— 
that*Kay said: 

“Ouch.! there was a sting in my heart! And now 
I got something in my eye!” 

The little girl put her arm around his neck; he 
blinked his eyes. No, there was nothing at all to be 
seen. 

“I think it is gone,” he said; but it was not gone. It 
was just one of those grains of glass which sprang 
from the mirror—the troll mirror that we remember 
well, the nasty glass that made everything great and 
good which was mirrored in it seem small and mean, 
but in which the mean and* the wicked things were 
brought out in relief, and every fault was noticeable 
at once. Poor little Kay had also got a splinter right 
in his heart, and it would now soon become like a 
lump of ice. It didn’t hurt him now, but it was there. 

“What are you crying for?” he asked. “You look 
ugly like that. There’s nothing the matter with me. 
Oh, look!” he suddenly shouted, “that rose is worm- 
eaten, and this one is all crooked. After all, they’re 
disgusting roses. They’re like the box they stand in.” 

And then he kicked the box hard with his foot, and 
tore both the roses off. 

“Kay, what are you doing?” cried the little girl. 

And when he saw she was scared he tore off an¬ 
other rose, and then ran in at his own window, away 
from darling little Gerda. 

When she afterward came with her picture book, he 
said it was only fit for ba'bies; and when the grand¬ 
mother told stories he always came in with a but; and 
when he could manage it, he would get behind her, put 


1G8 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

on a pair of spectacles, and talk just as she did; it 
was just like her and the people laughed at him. Soon 
he could imitate the way everybody in the street talked 
and walked. Everything that was peculiar or ugly 
about them Kay could imitate; and then people said, 
“That boy must certainly have a remarkable head.” 
But it was that glass he had got in his eye, the glass 
that stuck in his heart, that made him tease even little 
Gerda, who loved him with all her heart. 

His games were now quite different from what they 
were before; they were very sensible. One winter day 
when it snowed he came out with a big magnifying 
glass, held up a corner of his blue coat, and let the 
snowflakes fall on it. 

“Now, look at the glass, Gerda,” he said. 

And every flake of snow was much larger, and looked 
like a splendid flower, or a star with ten points; it was 
beautiful to look at. 

“See how clever that is,” said Kay. “That’s much 
more interesting than real flowers; and there is not a 
single fault in them—they’re quite regular until they 
begin to melt.” 

Soon after Kay came in thick gloves, and with his 
sledge on his back. He shouted right into Gerda’s 
ear, “They said I could go to the big square, where 
the other boys play,” and away he went. 

Over on the square the boldest among the boys often 
tied their sledges to the country people’s carts, and 
then they rode with them a good way. It was fine! 
When they were in the midst of their playing a big 
sledge came. It was painted all white, and in it sat 
somebody wrapped in a woolly white fur, and with a 
woolly white cap. The sledge drove twice around the 
square, and Kay quickly got his little sledge tied to it, 
and so he drove on with it. It went faster and faster, 
straight into the next street. The one who was driv¬ 
ing turned around and nodded in a friendly way to 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


lay 



Kay; it was as if they knew each other: each time 
when Kay wanted to untie his little sledge, the stranger 
nodded again, and then Kay stayed where he was, and 
they drove right out through the town gate. Then 
the snow began to fall so fast that the boy couldn’t 
see his own hand while he rushed along; then he quickly 
let go the rope to get loose from the big sledge, but 
that didn’t help, his little sledge was tied tight to the 
other, and they went like the wind. Then he shouted 
yery loudly, but nobody heard him; and the snow whirled 
and the sledge flew along; every now and then it gave 
a jump, and they seemed to be flying over hedges and 
ditches. Pie was very frightened. He wanted to 
say his prayers, but he could only remember the mul¬ 
tiplication table. 

The snowflakes got larger and larger; at last they 
looked like big white hens. All at once they jumped 
aside, the big sledge stopped, and the person who had 
driven it rose up. The fur and the cap were made all 











170 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


of snow; it was a lady, tall and straight and daz- 
zlingly white; it was the Snow Queen. 

“We came a good, long way,” she said. “But what 
are you cold for? Crawl into my bearskin.” 

And she seated him beside her in her own sledge, 
and wrapped the fur around him, and he felt as if he 
were sinking into a snowdrift. 

“Are you still cold?” she asked, and then she kissed 
him on the forehead. 

Oh, it was colder than ice; it went right to his heart, 
and half of that was already a lump of ice: he felt 
as if he were going to die; but only for a moment; 
then it helped him and he didn’t notice the cold around 
him. 

“My sledge! don’t forget my sledge!” That was the 
first thing he thought of; and it was tied to one of the 
white hens, and it flew behind him with the sledge on 
its back. The Snow Queen kissed Kay again, and then 
he forgot little Gerda, his grandmother, and all at 
home. 

“Now you won’t get any more kisses,” said she, “for 
if you did I should kiss you to death.” 

Kay looked at her. She was so beautiful, he couldn’t 
imagine a wiser or more lovely face; now she didn’t 
seem to be made of ice .as she did when she sat at the 
window and beckoned to him. In his eyes she was 
perfect; he didn’t feel scared at all. He told her that 
he could do mental arithmetic even with fractions, 
that he knew how many square miles in a country and 
how many inhabitants. And she always smiled, and 
then it seemed to him that what he knew was not 
enough, and he looked up into the big, big dome of 
the air and she flew with him, flew high up on the black 
clouds, and the storm was whistling and roaring, it 
was like the singing of ancient ballads. They flew 
over forests and lakes, over land and sea, below them 
the cold wind went whistling, the wolves howled, the 


THE SNOW QUEEN 171 

snow sparkled, over it flew the black, screaming crows; 
but above the moon was shining, large and clear, and 
Kay looked at it the long, long winter night; in the 
daytime he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen. 




THIRD STORY— 

THE FLOWER GARDEN OF THE WOMAN WHO COULD CONJURE 


B UT how did little Gerda get along when 
Kay didn’t come any more? Where 
could he be? No one knew, no one could 
tell her. The boys could only tell that 

__J they had seen him tie his sledge to a fine, 

large one, which had driven along the street and out at 
the town gate. Nobody knew what had become of him; 
many tears flowed, and little Gerda wept long and bit¬ 
terly ; then they said he was dead—he had been drowned 
in the river that ran close by their town. Oh, those 
were-very long dark winter days! But now spring 
came, with warmer sunshine. 

“Kay is dead and gone,” said little Gerda. 

“I don’t believe it,” said the Sunshine. 

“He is dead and gone,” she said to the Swallows. 

172 






THE SNOW QUEEN 173 

“We don’t believe it,” they answered; and at last 
little Gerda did not believe it herself. 

“I will put on my new red shoes,” she said one morn¬ 
ing, “the ones that Kay never has seen; and then I 
will go down to the river, and ask it about him.” 

It was still very earty; she kissed the old grand¬ 
mother, who was still asleep, put on her red shoes, and 
went all alone out of the town gate toward the river. 

“Is it true that you have taken my little playmate? 
I will give you my red shoes if you will give him back 
to me!” 

And it seemed to her as if the waves nodded quite 
strangely; and then she took her red shoes, that she 
liked best of anything she had, and threw them both 
into the river; but they fell close to the shore, and the 
little wavelets carried them back to her, to the land. It 
seemed as if the river would not take from her the dear¬ 
est things she owned, since, of course, it hadn’t taken 
little Kay; but she thought she hadn’t thrown the shoes 
far enough out; so she climbed into* a boat that lay 
among the reeds; she went to the other end of the boat, 
and threw the shoes out; but the boat was not bound 
fast, and at the movement she made it glided away 
from the shore. She noticed it, and hurried to get 
back, but before she reached the other end the boat 
was a yard from the bank, and now it drifted faster 
away. 

Then little Gerda w r as very much frightened, and 
began to cry; but no one heard her except the Spar¬ 
rows, and they couldn’t carry her ashore; but they 
flew along the edge and sang, as if to cheer her up, 
“Here are we!” here are we!” The boat drifted along 
with the current, and little Gerda sat quite still, with 
only her stockings on her feet; her little red shoes floated 
along behind her, but they couldn’t catch up with the 
boat which went much faster. 

It was very pretty on both shores,—lovely flowers, 


174 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


old trees, and slopes with sheep and cows; but not 
a human being in sight. 

“Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,” 
thought Gerda, and then she became more cheerful, 
and stood up, and for many hours she watched the 
beautiful green banks; then she came to a big cherry 
orchard, in which stood a little house with queer red 
and blue windows; it had a thatched roof, and out¬ 
side stood two wooden soldiers, who presented arms to 
those who sailed past. 

Gerda called to them, for she thought they were 
alive, but of course they didn’t answer. She came 
quite close to them; the river carried the boat toward 
the shore. 

Gerda called still louder, and then out of the house 
came an old, old woman leaning on a hooked stick; 
she had on a large sunbonnet, painted over with the 
loveliest flowers. 

“You poor little child!” said the old woman, “how 
did you ever come out on the big fast river and float 
so far out into the wide world?” 

And then the old woman stepped right into the water, 
hooked the boat with her stick, drew it to land, and 
lifted little Gerda out. And Gerda was glad to be on 
dry land again, though she felt a little afraid of the 
strange old woman. 

“Come and tell me who you are, and how you came 
here,” she said. And Gerda told her everything; and 
the old woman shook her head, and said, “Hem! hem!” 
And when Gerda had told' everything, and asked if she 
had not seen little Kay, the woman said that he had not 
yet come by, but that he probably would soon come. 
Gerda mustn’t be sad, but must taste her cherries and 
look at her flowers, they were prettier than any picture 
book, for each one of them could tell a story. Then 
she took Gerda by the hand and they went into the 
little house, and the old woman locked the door. 


THE SNOW QUEEN 175 

The windows were up very high, and the panes were 
red, blue, and yellow; the daylight shone so strangely 
in there in all colors. On the table stood the finest 
cherries, and Gerda ate as many of them as she liked, 
for she wasn’t afraid of that. While she was eatin<r 

o 

them, the old lady combed her hair with a golden comb, 
and her hair curled and shone so nice and yellow around 
the friendly little face that was so round and looked 
like a rose. 

“I’ve been wanting such a sweet little girl for a long 
time,” said the old woman. “Now you shall see how 
well we two are going to get along.” 

And while she was combing her hair, Gerda forgot 
her adopted brother Kay more and more; for this old 
woman knew something about witchcraft, but she wasn’t 
a wicked witch. She only witched a little for her own 
amusement, and now she wanted to keep little Gerda. 
Therefore she went into the garden, stretched out her 
stick toward' all the rosebushes, and no matter how 
beautifully they were blooming they all sank into the 
earth, and no one could tell where they had stood. The 
old woman was afraid that if the little girl saw roses, 
she would think of her own, and remember little Kay, 
and run away. 

Now she took Gerda out into the flower garden. 
What a fragrance and Avhat loveliness! Every conceiv¬ 
able flower was there in full bloom; there were some 
for every season; no picture book could be gayer and 
prettier. Gerda jumped high for joy, and played till 
the sun went down behind the high cherry trees; then 
she was put into a lovely bed with red silk pillows 
stuffed with blue violets, and she slept there, and 
dreamed as wonderfully as any queen on her wed¬ 
ding day. 

The next day she played again wdth the flowers in 
the warm sunshine; and in this way many days went 
by. Gerda knew every flower; but, as many as there 


176 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


were of them, it still seemed to her that one was miss¬ 
ing, but which one she didn’t know. Then one day 
she happened to be sitting and looking at the old 
woman’s sunbonnet w T ith the painted flowers and the 
prettiest one there was a rose. The old woman had 
forgotten to get that one off the hat when she put the 
others down in the earth. But that’s how it is when 
you don’t stop, to think! 

“What, aren’t there any- roses here?” said Gerda?. 

And she jumped in among the flower beds, and 
searched and searched, but there w T as not one to be 
found. Then she sat down and cried; her hot tears 
fell just on a spot where a rosebush lay buried, and 
when the warm tears moistened the earth the bush at 
once grew up as blooming as when it had sunk; and 
Gerda hugged it, and kissed the roses, and thought of 
the beautiful roses at home, and with them of little 
Kay. 

“Oh, I’ve been made so late!” said the little girl. 
“I was looking for Kay! Don’t you know r where he 
is?” she asked the Roses. “Do you think he is dead 
and gone?” 

“He is not dead,” the Roses answered. “We have 
been in the ground. All the dead people are there, 
but Kay is not there.” 

“Thank you,” said little Gerda; and she went over 
to the other flowers, looked into their cups, and asked, 
“Don’t you know where little Kay is?” 

But every flower stood in the sun thinking only of 
its own story or fairy tale; Gerda heard many, many 
of them; but not one knew anything of Kay. 

And what did the Tiger Lily say ? 

“Do you hear the drum ‘Tom-tom!’ There are only 
two notes, always ‘tom-tom!’ Hear the mourning song 
of the women, hear the call of the priests. The Hindoo 
widow stands in her long red mantle on the funeral 
pile; the flames rise up around her and her dead hus- 


THE SNOW QUEEN ITT 

band; but the Hindoo woman is thinking of the living 
one here in the circle, of him whose eyes burn hotter 
than flames, whose fiery glances reach her heart more 
than the flames, which are soon to burn her body to 
ashes. Can the flame of the heart die in the flame of 
the funeral pile?” 

“I don’t understand that at all!” said little Gerda. 

“That’s my story,” said the Lily. 

What does the Convolvulus say? 

“Above the narrow rock road towers an old baronial 
castle, the ivy grows thickly over the old red walls, 
leaf by leaf around the balcony and there stands a 
beautiful girl; she bends over the balustrade *and looks 
down at the road. No rose is fresher on its stem 
than she; no apple blossom borne by the wind from 
its tree floats more lightly along. How her costly 
silks rustle! ‘Is he never coming?’ ” 

“Do you mean Kay?” asked little Gerda. 

“I’m only speaking of my own story—my dream,” 
replied the Convolvulus. 

What does- the little Snowdrop say? 

“Between the trees ropes hold a long board; that 
is a swing. Two pretty little girls, in dresses white 
as snow and long green silk ribbons flying from their 
hats, are sitting on it, swinging; their brother, who is 
bigger than they, stands in the swing, and he has 
put his arm around the rope to hold himself, for in 
one hand he has a little saucer, and in the other a clay 
pipe; he is blowing bubbles. The swing flies, and the 
bubbles rise with beautiful changing colors; the last 
still hangs from the pipe bowl, swaying in the wind. 
The swing flies on: the little black dog, light as the 
bubbles, stands up on his hind legs and wants to be 
taken into the swing; it flies on, and the dog falls, 
barks, and is angry; they fooled it, and the bubble 
bursts. A swinging board and a bursting foam picture 
—that is my song.” 


178 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“It may be very pretty, what you’re telling, but you’re 
so sad about it, and you don’t mention little Kay 
at all.” 

What do the Hyacinths say? 

“There were three beautiful sisters, so clear and deli¬ 
cate. The dress of one was red, that of the second 
blue, and that of the third all white; hand in hand they 
danced by the calm lake in the bright moonlight. They 
were not elves, they were daughters of men. The scents 
were so sweet and the girls were lost in the forest; the 
scents grew stronger, three coffins, with the three beau¬ 
tiful maidens lying in them, glided from the wood 
thicket across the lake; the glowworms flew gleaming 
about them like little hovering lights. Are the dancing 
girls sleeping, or are they dead? The flower scent says 
they are corpses and the evening bell tolls over the 
dead.” 

“You make me very sad,” said little Gerda. “Your 
scent is so strong, I can’t help thinking of the dead 
girls. Ah! is little Kay really dead? The roses have 
been down in the earth, and they say no.” 

“Ding! Dong!” rang the Hyacinth bells. “We are 
not tolling for little Kay—we don’t know him; we 
only sing our song, the only one we know.” 

And Gerda went to the Buttercup, that was shining 
among its glistening green leaves. 

“You are a little bright sun,” said Gerda. “Tell 
me, if you know, where I can find my play brother.” 

And the Buttercup shone so gaily, and looked back 
at Gerda. What song might the Buttercup sing? 
That wasn’t about Kay either. 

“In a little yard the clear sun shone warm on the 
first day of spring. The sunbeams glided down the 
white wall of the neighboring house; close by grew 
the first yellow flowers, glittering gold in the warm 
sun’s rays. The old grandmother sat out of doors in 
her chair; her granddaughter, the poor, pretty ser- 


THE SNOW QUEEN 179 

vant, was coming home for a short visit; she kissed her 
grandmother. There was gold, heart’s gold, in that 
blessed kiss, gold in the mouth, gold in the eyes, gold 
up there in the bright sunrise. Well, that’s my little 
story,” said the Buttercup. 

“My poor old grandmother !” sighed Gerda. “She 
must be lonesome for me and sad about me, just as 
she was about little Kay. But I shall soon go home 
and bring Kay with me. There is no use in my asking 
the flowers, they only know their own song, they can’t 
tell me anything.” And then she pinned her little dress 
so that she could run faster; but the Jonquil struck 
against her leg as she sprang over it, and she stopped 
to look at the tall yellow flower, and asked, “Perhaps 
you know something?” 

And she bent right down to the flower, and what did 
it say? 

“I can see myself! I can see myself!” said the Jon¬ 
quil. “Oh! oh! what a smell I have! Up in the little 
room in the gable stands a little half-dressed dancing 
girl; she stands sometimes on one leg, sometimes on 
two; she kicks at the whole world; she’s nothing but 
a snare for the eyes; she pours water out of a teapot 
on a bit of stuff—it is her bodice. Cleanliness is a 
good thing! Her white frock hangs on a hook; it has 
been washed in the teapot too, and dried on the roof; 
she puts it on and ties her saffron handkerchief around 
her neck, and the dress looks all the whiter. Kick high! 
Look how she struts on one stem! I can see myself! I 
can see myself!” 

“I don’t care at all about that,” said Gerda. “That’s 
nothing to tell me!” 

And then she ran to the end of the garden. The door 
was locked, but she pulled at the rusty catch until it 
got loose and the door sprang open, and little Gerda 
ran in her bare feet out into the wide world. She 
looked back three times, but no one came after her; at 


180 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


last she could run no longer, and sat down on a big 
stone, and when she looked around the summer was 
over—it was late in autumn; nobody could know that in 
the beautiful garden, where there was always sunshine, 
and the flowers of every season always bloomed. 

“Oh, dear, how late I am!” said little Gerda. “It’s 
already autumn, so I mustn’t rest again!” 

And she got up to go on. Oh! how sore and tired 
her little feet w r ere. All around it looked cold and bleak : 
the long willow leaves were quite yellow, and the mist 
dropped from them like water; one leaf after another 
dropped; only the sloe thorn still bore fruit, but it 
was so sour and puckered the mouth all up. Oh! how 
gray and gloomy it w r as in the wide world! 




FOURTH STORY— 

THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS 



ERDA had to rest again; then a big Crow 
came hopping across the snow, just op¬ 
posite from the spot where she was sit¬ 
ting. This Crow had long been sitting 

_ and looking at her, and waggling its head 

—now it said, “Caw, caw, how do, how do!” It 
couldn’t say it any better, but it felt very friendly 
toward the little girl, and asked where she was going all 
alone in the wide world. The word “alone” Gerda 
understood very well, and felt how much it meant; and 
she told the Crow the whole story of her life, and asked 


if it hadn’t seen Kay. 

And the Crow nodded very thoughtfully and said: 

“It might be! It might be!” 

“What, do you think so?” cried the little girl, and 
nearly squeezed the Crow to death, she kissed it so. 

“Gently, gently!” said the Crow. “I think I know; 
I think it might be little Kay, but he has probably 

forgotten you, with the Princess. 

‘‘Does he live with a Princess!” asked Gerda. 

181 





















182 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“Yes; listen,” said the Crow. “But it’s so hard for 
me to speak your language. If you know the crow 
language, I can talk much better.” 

“No, I never learned it,” said Gerda; “but my grand¬ 
mother understood it, and could speak the P-language 
too. I only wish I had learned it.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” said the Crow. “I shall tell 
you as well as I can, and that won’t be very well.” 

And then the Crow told what it knew. 

“In the kingdom where we’re sitting now, lives a Prin¬ 
cess who is marvelously clever, but then she has read all 
the newspapers in the world, and has forgotten them 
again, she is so clever. The other day she was sitting 
on the throne—and they say that isn’t so much fun, 
either—and then she happened to hum a song, and it 
was just this, ‘Why shouldn’t I get married?’ ‘Well, 
there’s something in that,’ she said, and so she wanted 
to marry, but she wanted a husband who could answer 
when he was spoken to, not one who only stood and 
looked haughty, for that is so tiresome. And so she 
had all her maids of honor drummed together, and 
when they heard what she wanted they were very glad. 
‘I like that,’ they said. ‘That’s what I was thinking 
myself only the other day.’ You may be sure that 
every word I am telling you is true,” said the Crow. 
“I have a tame sweetheart who goes around freely in 
the castle, and she told me everything.” 

Of course the sweetheart was a crow, for birds of 
a feather flock together and a crow always finds a crow. 

“The newspapers were published at once, with a bor¬ 
der of hearts and the Princess’s initials. One could 
read in them that every young man who was good 
looking might come to the castle and speak with the 
Princess, and he who spoke as if he belonged there, 
and who spoke best, the Princess would choose for 
her husband. Yes, indeed,” the Crow said, “you can 
believe me. It’s as true as I sit here. People came 



THE SNOW QUEEN 183 

flocking in; there was a pushing and running to and 
fro, but nobody had any luck the first or second day. 
They could all talk well enough when they were out in 
the street, but when they entered at the palace gates, 
and saw the guards in silver and went up the staircase 
and saw the lackeys in gold, and the big lighted halls, 
they were staggered. And when they stood before the 
throne, on which the Princess sat, they could say nothing 
except the last word she had said, and she didn’t want 
to hear that again. It was just as if the people in 
there had swallowed snuff and had fallen into a trance, 
till they got into the street again, and then they could 
talk fast enough. There was a whole row of them, 
from the town gate to the palace gate. I went in my¬ 
self to see it,” said the Crow. “They got both hungry 
and thirsty, but in the palace they didn’t get as much 
as a glass of lukewarm water. A few of the wisest 
had brought bread and butter with them, but they 
wouldn’t share it with their neighbor, for they thought 
‘Let him look hungry, and the Princess won’t have 
him.’ ” 

“But Kay, little Kay?” asked Gerda. “When did he 
come? Was he among the crowd?” 

“Wait, wait! We’re just coming to him. On the 
third day a small person, without horse or carriage, 
came marching cheerfully right up to the castle; his 
eyes sparkled like yours, he had fine long hair, but his 
clothes were shabby.” 

“That was Kay!” cried Gerda rejoicingly. “Oh, 
then I have found him!” And she clapped her hands. 

“He had a little knapsack on his back,” said the 
Crow. 

“No, that must have been his sledge,” said Gerda, 
“for he went away with a sledge.” 

“That may well be,” said the Crow, “for I did not 
look very closely. But this much I know from my tame 
sweetheart, that when he came in the palace gate and 


184 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

saw the Life Guards in silver, and went up the stair¬ 
case and saw the lackeys in gold, he wasn’t the least 
little bit put out. He nodded, and said to them, ‘It 
must be tedious to stand on the stairs—I’d rather 
go inside.’ Inside the rooms were bright with candles; 
privy councillors and Excellencies went barefooted and 
carried gold dishes; anybody might have been im¬ 
pressed ! His boots creaked perfectly terribly, and still 
he wasn’t scared.” 

“I’m sure it’s Kay,” said Gerda, “I know he had 
new boots on; I’ve heard them creak in grandmother’s 
room.” 

“Yes, they certainly creaked,” said the Crow. “And 
he went boldly in to the Princess herself, who sat on a 
pearl that was as big as a spinning wheel; and all the 
court ladies with their maids and their maids’ maids, 
and all the cavaliers with their valets and their valets’ 
valets w T ho keep a boy, were standing around; and the 
nearer they stood to the door, the prouder they looked. 
Y r ou can hardly look at the valets’ valet’s boy, who 
always wears slippers, he stands so haughtily in the 
doorway!” 

“It must be awful!” said little Gerda. “And Kay 
got the Princess anyway?” 

“If I hadn’t been a crow, I would have married her 
myself, although I’m engaged. They say he spoke as 
well as I can when I speak the crow language; I 
heard that from my tame sweetheart. He was cheer¬ 
ful and agreeable; he had not come to woo, but only 
to hear the wisdom of the Princess; and he liked it, 
and then she liked ’him.” 

“Yes, that was certainly Kay!” said Gerda. “He 
was so clever, he could do mental arithmetic up 
to fractions. Oh! won’t you lead me to the castle 
too?” 

“That’s easily said,” said the Crow. “But how are 
we to manage it? I’ll talk it over with my tame sweet- 















































































































































THE SNOW QUEEN 185 

heart; she can probably advise us; because I must tell 
you that a little girl like you will never be let in in 
the regular way.” 

“Oh, yes, I will!” said Gerda. “When Kay hears 
that I’m there he’ll come out right away, and bring 
me in.” 

“Wait for me at the stile over there,” said the Crow; 
and it wagged its head and flew away. 

It was already late in the evening when the Crow 
came back. 

“Caw, caw!” it said. “She wants to be remembered 
to you many times! And here’s a little loaf for you. 
She took it from the kitchen. There’s plenty of bread 
there, and you must be hungry. You can’t possibly 
get into the palace, your feet are bare, you know, and 
the guards in silver and the lackeys in gold would not 
allow it. But don’t »cry ; you’ll get there anyway. My 
sweetheart knows a little back staircase that leads up 
to the bedroom, and she knows where she can get the 
key.” 

And they went into the garden, into the great avenue, 
where one leaf was falling after another; and when the 
lights were put out in the palace one after the other, 
the Crow led Gerda to a back door, which stood ajar. 

Oh, how Gerda’s heart beat with fear and longing! 
It was just as if she had been going to do something 
wicked; and yet she only wanted to know if it was little 
Kay. Yes, it must be he. His thoughtful eyes and his 
long hair were so clear in her memory, she could almost 
see him smile as he had smiled at home when they sat 
among the roses. He would certainly be glad to see 
her; to hear what a long distance she had come for his 
sake; to know how sorry they had all been at home when 
he did not come back. Oh, what fear and joy she felt! 

Now they were on the staircase. A little lamp was 
burning on a cupboard, and in the middle of the floor 
stood the tame Crow turning her head in every direction 


18G 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


and looking at Gerda, who curtsied as her grandmother 
had taught her to do. 

“My betrothed has spoken to me very favorably of 
you, my little lady,” said the tame Crow. “Your Vita , 
as they call it, is very moving. Will you take the lamp? 
then I will precede you. We will go straight up, in that 
way we shan’t meet anybody.” 

“I feel as if some one were coming after us,” said 
Gerda, and something rushed by her; it seemed like 
shadows on the wall; horses with flying manes and thin 
legs, hunters, and ladies and gentlemen on horseback. 

“These are only dreams,” said the Crow, “they are 
coming to take the thoughts of our noble masters out 
hunting. That’s all the better, because then you can 
look at them more closely in their beds. But I hope 
that when you come to honor and dignity, you will 
have a grateful heart.” 

“I -wouldn’t talk about that,” said the Crow from the 
wood. 

Now they came into the first large room: it was hung 
with rose-colored satin, and artificial flowers were 
worked on the w T alls; and here the dreams already came 
flitting by them, but they moved so quickly that Gerda 
could not see the high-born lords and ladies. Each 
room was more splendid than the last; one might well 
be taken aback! Now they were in the bedroom. Here 
the ceiling was like a large palm tree with leaves of 
glass, of costly glass, and in the middle of the floor two 
beds hungs on a thick stalk of gold, and each of them 
looked like a lily. One of them was white, and in that 
lay the Princess; the other was red, and in that Gerda 
was going to look for little Kay. She bent one of the 
red leaves aside, and then she saw a brown neck. Oh, 
that was Kay! She called out his name quite loud, and 
held the lamp toward him. The dreams rushed into 
the room again on horseback—he woke up, turned his 
head, and—it was not little Kay! 


THE SNOW QUEEN 187 

Only the Prince's neck was like him; but he was young 
and good looking, and the Princess peered out from the 
white lily, and asked who was there. Then little Gerda 
wept, and told her whole history, and all that the Crows 
had done for her. 

ou poor child!” said the Prince and Princess. 

And they praised the Crows, and said that they were 
not angry with them at all, but the Crows were not to 
do it again. However, they should be rewarded. 

“Do you want to be free?” asked the Princess, “or 
will you have fixed appointments as court crows, with 
all the kitchen left-overs?” 

And the two Crow T s bowed, and begged for fixed ap¬ 
pointments, for they thought of their old age, and said, 
“It is a good thing to have something for the old man,” 
for that was the w T ay they put it. 

And the Prince got up out of his bed, and let Gerda 
sleep in it, and he couldn’t do more than that. She 
folded her little hands, and thought, “How good men 
and animals are!” and then she shut her eyes and w r ent 
quietly to sleep. All the dreams came flying in again, 
looking like angels, and they drew a little sledge, on 
which Kay sat nodding; but all this w r as only a dream, 
and therefore it w T as gone again as soon as she woke up. 

The next day she w r as dressed up from head to foot 
in silk and velvet; and she was asked to stay in the castle 
and have a good time; but she only wanted a little car¬ 
riage, with a horse to draw it, and a pair of little boots; 
then she wmuld drive out again into the wide world and 
find Kay. 

And she not only got boots but a muff; she w T as dressed 
so prettily; and when she was ready to go a coach made 
of pure gold stopped before her door. Upon it shone 
like a star the coat of arms of the Prince and Princess; 
coachman, footmen, and outriders—for there were out¬ 
riders, too—sat on horseback wdth gold crowns on their 
heads. The Prince and Princess themselves helped her 


188 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


into the carriage, and wished her all good fortune. The 
forest Crow, who was now married, went with her the 
first three miles; he sat by Gerda’s side, for he could 
not stand riding backward: the other Crow stood in 
the doorway flapping her wings; she didn’t come with 
them, for since she had had a fixed appointment and too 
much to eat, she suffered from headache. Inside the 
coach was lined with sugar biscuits, and in the seat there 
were gingerbread nuts and fruit. 

“Good-by, good-by!” cried the Prince and Princess; 
and little Gerda wept, and the*Crow wept. So they 
went on for the first three miles; and then the Crow 
said good-by, and that was the saddest parting of all. 
The Crow flew up on a tree, and beat his black wings 
as long as he could see the coach, which shone like the 
bright sunshine. 












FIFTH STORY— 

THE LITTLE ROBBER GIRL 

HEY drove through the dark forest, but the 
coach gleamed like a torch, dazzling the 
eyes of the robbers, so that they couldn’t 
bear it. 

“That is gold! that is gold!” they 
shouted, and rushed forward, and seized the horses, 
killed the postilions, the coachman, and the footmen, 
and then pulled little Gerda out of the carriage. 

“She is fat—she is pretty—she has been fattened 
with nut kernels!” said the old robber woman, who had 
a long stiff beard, and eyebrows that hung down over 
her eyes. “She’s as good as a little pet lamb; my, how 
good she’ll taste!” 

And she drew out her shining knife, that gleamed in 
a horrible way. 

“Ouch!” screamed the old woman at the same moment; 
for her own daughter who hung at her back bit her in 
the ear; she was a wonder, she was so wild and rough. 

189 








190 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“You nasty brat!” screamed the old woman; and she 
didn’t have time to butcher Gerda. 

“I want her to play with me!” said the little robber 
girl. “She shall give me her muff and her pretty dress, 
and sleep with me in my bed!” 

And then she bit her mother again so that the robber 
woman jumped high in the air and turned right around, 
and all the robbers laughed and said: 

“Watch her, she’s dancing with her brat!” 

“I want to get into the carriage,” said the little rob¬ 
ber girl. 

And she must and would have her own way because 
she was so spoiled and so stubborn; and she and Gerda 
sat in the carriage, and drove over stock and stone deep 
into the forest. The little robber girl was as big as 
Gerda, but stronger and more broad-shouldered; and 
she had a brown skin; her eyes were quite black, and 
they looked almost mournful. She put her arms around 
little Gerda, and said: 

“They shan’t kill you as long as I am not angry 
with you. I suppose you are a Princess?” 

“No,” said little Gerda. And she told everything that 
had happened to her, and how fond she was of little Kay. 

The robber girl looked at her seriously, nodded 
slightly, and said: 

“They shan’t kill you even if I do get angry with 
you, for then I will do it myself.” 

And then she dried Gcrda’s eyes, and put her two 
hands into the beautiful muff that w r as so soft and warm. 

Now the coach stopped, and they were in the court¬ 
yard of a robber castle. It w r as cracked from top to 
bottom; ravens and crows flew out of the open holes, 
and big bulldogs—each of whom looked as if he could 
swallow a man—jumped high up, but they didn’t bark, 
for that was forbidden. 

In the large old smoky hall a bright fire burned on 
the stone floor; the smoke drifted along under the ceiling 




































































191 


THE SNOW QUEEN 

and tried to find a way out. A big cauldron of ‘soup 
was boiling and bares and rabbits were roasting on the 
spit. 

“You shall sleep to-night with me and all my little 
animals,” said the robber girl. 

They got something to eat and drink, and then went 
to a corner, where straw and rugs were spread out. 
Above these sat on laths and perches more than a hun¬ 
dred pigeons, that all seemed asleep, but they turned a 
little when the two little girls came. 

“They all belong to me,” said the little robber girl; 
and she quickly seized one of the nearest, held it by the 
legs, and shook it so that it flapped its wings. “Kiss 
it!” she cried, and beat it in Gerda’s face. “Here are 
my wood rascals,” she kept on, pointing to a number of 
laths that had been nailed in front of a hole in the wall. 
“Those are wood rascals, those two ; they fly away at 
once if one doesn’t keep them well locked up. And 
here’s my old sweetheart ‘Ba.’ ” And she pulled out by 
the horn a Reindeer, that was tied up, and had a pol¬ 
ished copper ring around its neck. “We have to keep 
him tight too, or he’d run away from us. Every evening 
I tickle his neck with a sharp knife, and he’s very 
frightened at that.” 

And the little girl pulled a long knife from a cleft in 
the wall, and let it glide over the Reindeer’s neck; the 
poor creature kicked out its legs, and the little robber 
girl laughed, and pulled Gerda into bed with her. 

“Do you want to take the knife to bed with you?” 
asked Gerda, and looked at it in rather a frightened way. 

“I always sleep with a knife,” said the robber girl. 
“You never can tell what’s going to happen. But now 
tell me again what you told me just now about little 
Kay, and why you went out into the wide world.” 

And Gerda told it again from the beginning; and the 
Wood Pigeons cooed above them in their cage, and the 
other pigeons slept. The little robber girl put her arm 


192 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


around Gerda’s neck, held her knife in the other hand, 
and slept so that one could hear her; but Gerda couldn’t 
close her eyes at all—she didn’t know whether she was 
going to live or die. The robbers sat around the 
fire, singing and drinking, and the old robber woman 
turned somersaults. It was an awful sight for the 
little girl. 

Then the Wood Pigeons said, “Coo, coo! we have 
seen little Kay. A white hen was carrying his sledge; 
he sat in the Snow Queen’s carriage, which drove low 
over the forest as we lay in our nests. She blew upon 
us young pigeons, and all died except us two. Coo! 
coo!” 

“What are you saying up there?” asked Gerda. 
“Where was the Snow Queen traveling? Do you know 
anything about it?” 

“She was probably traveling to Lapland, for there 
they always have ice and snow. Ask the Reindeer who 
is tied up with the cord.” 

“There is ice and snow there, and it is a lovely place,” 
said the Reindeer. “There you run free in great, glit¬ 
tering valleys! There the Snow Queen has her summer 
tent; but her strong castle is up toward the North 
Pole, on the island that’s called Spitzbergen.” 

“Oh, Kay, little Kay!” sighed Gerda. 

“Now you’ll be quiet,” said the robber girl, “or you’ll 
get my knife in your stomach.” 

In the morning Gerda told her all that the Wood 
Pigeons had said, and the robber girl looked quite seri¬ 
ous, and nodded her head and said: 

“It doesn’t matter! it doesn’t matter!” 

“Do you know where Lapland is?” she asked the 
Reindeer. 

“Who should know better than I?” the animal said, 
and its eyes sparkled in its head. “I was born and bred 
there; I played in the snow fields there.” 

“Listen!” said the robber girl to Gerda. “You see 


THE SNOW QUEEN 193 

all our men have gone away. Only mother is here still, 
and she’ll stay; but toward noon she drinks out of the 
big bottle, and then she takes a little nap; then I’ll 
do something for you.” 

Now she jumped out of bed, rushed over around her 
mother’s neck and pulled her beard, crying: 

“Good morning, my own sweet nanny goat.” And her 
mother filliped her nose till it was red and blue; but it 
was all done for pure love. 

When the mother had drunk out of her bottle and was 
taking a little nap, the robber girl went to the Reindeer, 
and said; 

“I have a queer feeling that I’d like to tickle you a 
few times more with the knife, for you are very funny 
then; but it doesn’t matter. I’ll untie your rope and 
help you out, so that you can run to Lapland; but you 
must use your legs well, and carry this little girl to the 
palace of the Snow Queen, where her playfellow is. 
You’ve heard what she told me, for she spoke loud 
enough, and you- are always listening.” 

The Reindeer jumped high for joy. The robber girl 
lifted little Gerda on its back, and had the forethought 
to tie her on, and even to give her a little cushion as a 
saddle. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, “there are your fur 
boots, it’s going to be cold; but the muff I’m going to 
keep, that’s much too pretty! Still, you’re not going 
to be cold, for all that; here’s my mother’s big mittens, 
they’ll reach right up to your elbows. Now your hands 
look just like my ugly mother’s.” 

And Gerda wept for joy. 

“I can’t bear to see you whimper,” said the little 
robber girl. “Now, you just ought to look very happy. 
And here are two loaves of bread and a ham for you, so 
you won’t be hungry.” 

These w T ere tied on the Reindeer’s back. The little 
robber girl opened the door, coaxed in all the big dogs, 


194 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


and then cut the rope with her sharp knife, and said to 
the Reindeer: 

“Run now, but take good care of the little girl.” 

And Gerda stretched out her hands with the big mit¬ 
tens toward the little robber girl, and said, “Good- 
by;” and the Reindeer ran over stock and stone, away 
through the great forest, over marshes and steppes, as 
quick as it could go. The wolves howled and the ravens 
screamed. “Whizz! whizz!” it said up in the sky; it 
looked as if it sneezed red. 

“Those are my old Northern Lights,” said the Rein¬ 
deer. “Look how they glow!” And then it ran on faster 
than ever, day and night. 

The loaves were eaten, and the ham too, and then 
they were in Lapland. 






T a little hut they stopped. It was a piti¬ 
ful place; the roof sloped down to the 
ground, and the door was so low that the 
family had to creep on their stomachs 
when they wanted to go in or out. No¬ 
body was home except an old Lapp woman, cooking 
fish on a fish-oil lamp; and the Reindeer told Gerda’s 
whole history, but it told its own first, for this seemed 
to the Reindeer the more important of the two. Gerda 
was so overcome with the cold that she could not speak. 

“Oh, you poor things,” said the Lapp woman, “you’ve 
a long way to run yet! You must go more than a hun¬ 
dred miles into the Finmark, for the Snow Queen is there, 
staying in the country, and burning Roman candles 
every evening. I’ll write a few words on a dried cod¬ 
fish, for I have no paper, and I’ll give you that as a 
letter to the Finn woman; she can give you better infor¬ 
mation than I.” 

And when Gerda had been warmed and refreshed with 

195 




























































































196 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


food and drink, the Lapp woman wrote a few words on 
a dried codfish, and telling Gerda to take care of it, 
tied her again on the Reindeer, and the Reindeer gal¬ 
loped away. Whizz ! whizz! something said high in the 
air; the whole night long the most beautiful blue 
Northern Lights were burning. 

And then they got to the Finmark, and knocked at the 
chimney of the Finn woman, for she didn’t even have 
a door. 

In here it was so hot that the woman herself went 
around almost naked. She was small and muddy look¬ 
ing. She at once loosened little Gerda’s dress and took 
oft* the mittens and boots; otherwise it would have been 
too hot for her to bear. Then she laid a piece of ice 
on the Reindeer’s head, and read what was written on 
the codfish; she read it three times, and then she knew 
it by heart, and put the fish into the kettle, for it was 
eatable, and she never wasted anything. 

Now the Reindeer told first its own history, and then 
little Gerda’s; and the Finn woman blinked with her 
clever eyes, but said nothing. 

“You are very clever,” said the Reindeer, “I know 
you can tie all the winds of the world together with a 
bit of thread: if the seaman unties one knot, he has 
a good wind; if he unties the second, it blows hard; but 
if he unties the third and the fourth the wind tears the 
trees in the forest up by their roots. Yfon’t you give 
the little girl a draught, so that she may get the strength 
of twelve men and overcome the Snow Queen?” 

“The strength of twelve men,” said the Finn woman, 
“that would help a lot!” 

And she went to a shelf, and took down a big rolled- 
up skin and unrolled it; strange letters were written on 
it, and the Finn woman read until the water streamed 
down over her forehead. 

But the Reindeer again begged so hard for little 
Gerda, and Gerda looked at the Finn woman with such 


THE SNOW QUEEN 197 

beseeching eyes full of tears, that she began to blink 
again with her own, and drew the Reindeer into a cor¬ 
ner, and whispered to it, while she laid fresh* ice on 
its head. 

“Little Kay is certainly with the Snow Queen, and 
finds everything there to his taste^and liking, and thinks 
it the‘best place in the world; but that is because he has 
a splinter of glass in his eye, and a little grain of glass 
in his heart. They must be got out, or he will never be 
a human*being again, and the Snow Queen- will keep her 
power over him.” 

“But can’t you give something to little Gerda, so that 
she will have power over all this?” 

“I can give her no greater power than she has al¬ 
ready ; don’t you see how great that is ? Don’t you see 
how men and animals have to serve her, and how well 
she gets along in the world on her bare feet? We 
mustn’t tell her about her power, it is in her heart; it is 
in her being a sweet and innocent child. If she can’t 
reach the Snow Queen herself and. get the glass out of 
little Kay, we can be of no use! Two miles from here 
the Snow Queen’s garden begins; you can carry the little 
girl there; set her down by the big bush that stands 
with red berries in the snow. And. no gossiping but 
hurry up and get back here!” 

And then the Finn woman lifted little Gerda on the 
Reindeer, which ran as fast as it could. 

“Oh, I didn’t get my boots! I didn’t get my mittens!” 
cried little Gerda. 

She soon noticed that in the cutting cold; but the 
Reindeer didn’t dare to stop; it ran till it came to the 
big bush with the red berries; there it set Gerda down, 
and kissed her on the mouth, and big -bright tears ran 
down the creature’s cheeks; and then it ran back, as 
fast as it could. There stood poor Gerda without shoes, 
without gloves, in the middle of the terrible ice-cold 
Finmark. 


198 


ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES 


She ran forward as fast as she could; then a whole 
regiment of snowflakes came; but they didn’t fall down 
from the sky, for thaf, was quite bright and shining with 
Northern Lights; the snowflakes ran along the ground, 
and the nearer they # came the larger they grew. 
Gerda still remembered how large and strange they had 
seemed when she looked at them through the magnifying 
glass. But here they were certainly much bigger and 
much more terrible—they were alive. They were the 
outposts of the Snow Queen, and had the queerest shapes. 
A few looked like ugly large porcupines; others like 
whole knots of snakes sticking out their heads; and 
others*like little fat bears, whose hair stood on end; all 
were brilliantly white, all were living snowflakes: 

Then little Gerda said the Lord’s Prayer; and the 
cold was so intense that she could see her own- breath, it 
came out of her mouth like smoke. Her breath got 
thicker and thicker, and formed itself into bright little 
angels, who grew and grew whenever they touched the 
earth; and all had helmets on their heads and shields 
and spears in their hands; their number increased more 
and more, and when Gerda had finished her prayer a 
whole legion stood around her, and struck with their 
spears at the awful snowflakes, so that these were shat¬ 
tered into a thousand pieces; and little Gerda -went for¬ 
ward safe and brave. The angels stroked her hands 
and feet, and then she felt the cold less, and’ walked 
quickly on to the Snow Queen’s palace. 

But now we must see what Kay is doing. He cer¬ 
tainly wasn’t thinking of little Gerda, and least of all 
that she was standing, in front of the castle. 





SEVENTH STORY— 

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE SNOW QUEEN’S CASTLE AND 
WHAT HAPPENED AFTERWARD 

(-■ ' — - - 

T HE walls of the castle were the drifting 
snow, and the windows and doors were the 
cutting winds. There were mc/re than a 
hundred halls, • as the snow drifted; the 

- ■ ■ largest stretched for many miles; the 

strong Northern Lights illumined them all, and they 
were so big, so empty, so icily cold, and so dazzling. 
No fun was ever here, not as much as a little bear dance 
where the wind could have blown a trumpet and the ice 
bears walked on their hind legs and had elegant man¬ 
ners ; never a little card party with slaps on the jaw and 
give-me-your-paw; never any little coffee gossip among 
the white-fox ladies. Empty, vast, and cold were the 
halls of the Snow Queen. The Northern Lights flamed 

199 





















200 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


so punctually that one could figure out when they were 
going to be highest and lowest. In the middle of 
this empty, endless snow hall was a frozen lake; 
it had cracked into a thousand pieces, but each piece 
was so accurately like the rest, that it was a perfect work 
of art; and in the middle of the lake sat the Snow Queen 
when she was at home, and then she said that she sat 
in the mirror of reason, and that this was the only one, 
and the best in the world. 

Little Kay was quite blue with cold—indeed, almost 
black, but he didn’t notice it, for she had kissed the cold 
shivers away from him; and his heart was almost like a 
lump of ice. He dragged a few sharp flat pieces of ice 
to and fro, joining them together in all kinds of ways, 
for he wanted to do something with them. It was like 
our little tablets of wood, which we lay together to 
form figures—what we call the Chinese puzzle. Kay 
also was making figures, the cleverest of all; it was 
the ice game of reason. In his eyes these figures were 
•jery remarkable and of the highest importance; that 
was because of the piece of glass sticking in his eye. 
He made figures that spelled out a whole written word— 
but he could never manage to spell out the one word 
he wanted—the word “Eternity.” And the Snow Queen 
had said: 

“If you can puzzle out this figure, you shall be your 
own master, and I will give you the whole world and a 
new pair of skates.” 

But he could not. 

“Now I’ll fly away to the hot countries,” said the 
Snow Queen. “I will go and look into the black pots.” 
These were the volcanoes, Etna and Vesuvius, as they 
are called. “I’m going to whiten them a little! That’s 
necessary; that’s good after lemons and grapes.” 

And the Snow Queen flew away, and Kay sat all alone 
in the large, empty hall that stretched for miles, and 
looked at his pieces of ice, and thought so hard that he 


201 


THE SNOW QUEEN 

creaked inside; he sat quite stiff and still, one would 
have thought that he was frozen to death. 

Then it was that little Gerda stepped into the castle 
through the gate of cutting winds, but she said an 
evening prayer and the winds lay down as if to sleep; 
and she stepped into the big, empty, cold halls—then 
she saw Kay; she knew him, she fell on his neck, hugged 
him tight, and called out: 

“Kay, dear little Kay! at last I have found you!” 

But he sat quite still, stiff and cold. Then little 
Gerda wept hot tears, they fell on his breast; they 
pressed into his heart, they thawed the lump of ice, and 
consumed the little piece of glass in it. He looked at 
her, and she sang the hymn: 

The roses irwthe valley grow, 

Where we shall once the Christ-child know. 

Then Kay burst into tears; he wept so that the splin¬ 
ter of glass rolled out of his eye. Now he recognized 
her, and cried with j oy: 

“Gerda, dear little Gerda! where have you been all 
this time? And where have I been?” And he looked all 
around him. “How cold it is here! how large and 
empty!” 

And he clung to Gerda, and she laughed and wept for 
joy. It was so wonderful that even the pieces of ice 
around them danced for joy; and when they were tired 
and lay down, they formed themselves just into the let¬ 
ters which the Snow Queen had said he must discover to 
be his own master, and to get the whole world and a 
new pair of skates. 

And Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they bloomed pink; 
she kissed his eyes, and they shone like her own; she 
kissed his hands and feet, and he was well and strong. 
The Snow Queen might come home now; his letter of 
liberty stood written there with shining pieces of ice. 

And they took one another by the hand, and wan- 


202 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


dered out of the big castle. They talked’ about the 
grandmother, and of the roses on the roof; and where 
they went the winds rested and the sun broke out; and 
when they came to the bush with the red berries, the 
Reindeer was standing there waiting: it had brought 
another young reindeer, whose udder was full and who 
gave the children warm milk, and kissed them on the 
mouth. Then they carried Kay and Gerda, first to the 
Finn woman, where they warmed themselves in the 
hot room, and found out how to go home, and then to 
the Lapp woman, who had «made new clothes for them 
and put her sledge in order. 

The Reindeer and the young Reindeer sprang at their 
side, and followed them as far as the boundary of the 
country. There the first green peeped out, and there 
they took leave of the two reindeer and the Lapp woman. 
“Good-by!” they all said. And the first little birds 
began to twitter, the woods had green bud's, and out of 
it on a beautiful horse (which Gerda knew, for it was 
the one that had drawn her golden coach) a young girl 
came riding, with a shining red cap on her head and 
a pair of pistols in the holsters. This was the little 
robber girl, who had grown tired of staying at home, 
and wished to go first to the north, and if thkt did not 
suit her, in some other direction. She knew Gerda at 
once, and Gerda knew her too; and there was great joy. 

“You’re a great one to traipse around!” she said to 
little Kay. “I’d like to know if you’re so good that 
people ought to run to the end of the world for your 
sake!” 

But Gerda patted her cheeks, and asked about the 
Prince and Princess. 

“They’ve gone to foreign countries,” said the robber 
girl. 

“But the Crow?” said Gerda. 

“Why, the Crow is dead,” answered the other. “The 
tame one has become a widow, and goes around with an 


203 


THE SNOW QUEEN 

end of black worsted thread around her leg. She takes 
on terribly and it’s all nonsense. But now tell me what 
happened to you, and how you caught him.” 

And Gerda and Kay told their story. 

“Snip-snap-snurre-basse-lurre!” said the robber girl. 

And she took them both by the hand, and promised 
that if she ever came through their town, she would come 
up and pay them a visit. And then she rode away into 
the wide world. But Gerda and Kay went hand in hand, 
and as they went it was- lovely spring, with green things 
and flowers. The church bells rang and they knew the 
high steeples and the great town; it was the one in 
which they lived; and they went* to grandmother’s door, 
and up the stairs, and into the room, where everything 
stood in the same place. The big clock was going 
“Tick! tack!” and the hands were turning; but as they 
went through the door they noticed that they had be¬ 
come grown-up people. The roses out on the roof gut¬ 
ter were blooming into the open windows, and there stood 
the little children’s chairs, and' Kay and Gerda sat down 
on their own, and held each other by the hand. They 
had forgotten the cold, empty splendor of the Snow 
Queen like a -bad dream. The grandmother was sitting 
in God’s bright sunshine, and read aloud out of the 
Bible, “Except ye become as little children, ye shall 
in no wise enter into the kingdom- of God.” 

And Kay and Gerda looked into each other’s eyes, and 
all at once they understood the old»hymn: 

Roses in the valley grow. 

Where we the Christ-child once shall know. 

There they both sat, grown up, and- yet children— 
children in their hearts—and* it was summer, warm, de¬ 
lightful summer. 



• *JJ>e JDorntng JTeedle 



HERE was once a Darning Needle, who 
thought she was so fine that she was really 
a sewing needle. 

“Look at what you’re holding now!” 
she said to the Fingers which took her 
out. “Don’t drop me! If I fall on the floor you may 
never find me again, I am so fine!” 

“Oh, it isn’t as bad as that,” said the Fingers; and 
they grasped her around the waist. 

“Look, I come with retinue!” said the Darning 
Needle, and she drew a long thread after her, but there 
was no knot in the thread. 

The Fingers pointed the needle right at the cook’s 
slipper, in which the upper leather had cracked, and 
now it was going to be sewn together. 

“That’s low work,” said the Darning Needle. “I 
shall never get through. I’m breaking! I’m breaking!” 
And then she broke. “Didn’t I tell you?” said the 
Darning Needle, “I’m too fine!” 

204 




























THE DARNING NEEDLE 


205 


“Now, she’s no good,” thought the Fingers; but 
they had to hold her fast, all the same; for the cook 
dropped some sealing wax on the needle, and pinned her 
kerchief together with it in front. 

“Well, now I’m a breastpin!” said the Darning 
Needle. “I knew very well that I should come to honor: 
when one is something, one always comes to some¬ 
thing !” 

And she laughed inside, because you never can tell 
from the outside when a darning needle laughs. There 
she sat, as proud as if she was driving in a coach, and 
looked all around her. 

“May I be permitted to ask if you are of gold?” she 
asked the pin, her neighbor. “You have a very pretty 
appearance, and a head of your own, 'but it’s small. 
You’d better let it grow, because everybody can’t have 
sealing wax dropped* on the end.” 

And the Darning Needle drew herself up so proudly 
that she fell out of the kerchief right into the sink, 
which the cook was rinsing out. 

“Now we’re going traveling,” said the Darning 
Needle.—“If only I don’t get lost!” 

But she did get lost. 

“I’m too fine for this world,” she said, as she lay 
in the gutter. “But I know who I am, and there’s 
always something in that!” 

So the Darning Needle held herself straight and kept 
cheerful. And all sorts of things sailed over her, sticks 
and straws and pieces of old newspapers. 

“Just look at them sail!” said the Darning Needle. 
“They don’t know what’s at the bottom. I’m at the 
bottom; I am here. Look, there goes a stick thinking 
of nothing in the world except ‘stick,’ and that s itself! 
There’s a straw going by now. Look at it, twisting and 
turning. Don’t think so much about yourself, you 
might hit a cobblestone! There swims a newspaper. 
What’s written on it is forgotten, and still it spieads it- 


206 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


self! I sit quietly and patiently here. I know who I 
am, and I shall remain what I am.” 

One day something lay close beside her that glittered 
splendidly; then the Darning Needle believed that it was 
a diamond; but it was a Bit of broken Bottle; and 
because it shone, the Darning Needle spoke to it, intro¬ 
ducing herself as a breastpin. 

“I suppose you are a diamond?” she said. 

“Why, yes, something of that kind.” 

And then each believed the other to be a very valu¬ 
able thing; and they ‘began speaking about the world, 
and how very conceited it was. 

“I’ve been living in a lady’s box,” said the Darning 
Needle, “and this lady was a cook. She had five fin¬ 
gers on each hand, and I never saw anything so con¬ 
ceited as those five fingers. And yet they were only 
there to hold me, to take me out of the box and to put 
me back into it.” 

“Did they shine?” asked the Bit of Bottle. 

“Shine?” said the Darning Needle, “no, but they were 
very haughty. There were five brothers, all o£ the finger 
family. They all stood straight next to each other, 
though they were of different lengths: the outermost, 
the thumbling, was short and fat; he walked out in front 
of the ranks, and only had one joint in his back, and 
could only make a single bow; but he said that if he were 
hacked off a man, that whole man was useless for service 
in war. Lickpot, the second finger, got into sweet and 
sour, pointed to sun and moon, and he was the one who 
held the pen when they wrote. Longman, the third, 
looked over the heads of the others. Goldborder, the 
fourth, had a gold ring around his stomach, and little 
Peter Playman did nothing at all, and was proud of it. 
They were bragging, bragging all the time and then I 
took to the sink.” 

“And now we sit here and glitter!” said the Bit of 
Bottle. 
























































THE DARNING NEEDLE 207 

Just then more water came into the gutter, so that it 
overflowed, and the Bit of Bottle was carried away. 

“Well, he’s promoted now,” said the Darning Needle. 

I remain here, I am too fine. But that’s my pride, 
and my pride is honorable.” And she sat up straight 
and thought of many things. “I could almost believe 
I had been born of a sunbeam, I’m so fine! It really 
seems to me that the sunbeams are always looking for 
me under the water. Ah! I’m so fine that my mother 
can t find me. If I had my old eye, which broke off, I 
think I could cry; but I wouldn’t; it’s not genteel 
to cry.” 

One day a couple of street boys were grubbing in the 
gutter, where they sometimes found oil nails, pennies, 
and other things. It was nasty, but after all that’s 
what they liked. 

“Ouch!” one of them said, he pricked himself with 
the Darning Needle, “that’s a nice fellow!” 

“I’m not a fellow, I’m a young lady!” said the Darn¬ 
ing Needle. 

But nobody listened to her. The sealing wax had 
come off, and she had turned black; but black makes 
one look slender, and she thought she was even finer 
than before. 

“Here comes an eggshell sailing along!” said the 
boys; and they stuck the Darning Needle into the egg¬ 
shell. 

“White walls, and black myself! that looks well,” 
said the Darning Needle. “Now I can be seen. If 
only I’m not seasick, because then I’ll break!” But she 
wasn’t seasick and she didn’t break. “It is good for 
seasickness to have a steel stomach, and to remember 
that one is a little more than an ordinary human being! 
Now my seasickness is over. The finer one is, the more 
one can bear.” 

“Crack!” said the eggshell, for a wagonload went 
over it. 


208 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“Oh, how it pinches!” said the Darning Needle. “I’m 
going to get seasick anyway. I’m going to break! I’m 
going to break!” But it didn’t break, although a wag¬ 
gonload went over it; it was lying the long way, and 
there we’ll let it lie. 






UT in the country lay an old manor house, 
and in it lived an old squire who had two 
sons who were twice as clever as they had 
any right to be. They were going to 
propose to the daughter of the king, and 
they weren’t afraid to do that because she had an¬ 
nounced that she was going to marry whoever could talk 
the best. 

They spent eight days preparing themselves, that 
was all the time they had, but they knew a lot of things 
beforehand, and that’s always useful. One of them knew 
the whole Latin dictionary by heart and the town news¬ 
paper for three years both forward and backward; the 
other had acquainted himself with the laws of all the 
guilds and what every alderman should know, then he 
could talk about state affairs, he thought; and besides 
that he could embroider suspenders, for he had a very 
delicate touch. 

“I’ll get the Princess!” both of them said, and then 
their father gave each of them a lovely horse. The one 

209 
























210 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


who knew the dictionary and the newspapers got a coal- 
black horse, and he who knew about guilds and em¬ 
broidery got a milk-white one, and then they rubbed the 
corners of their mouths with fish oil to make them more 
supple. All the servants w r ere down in the yard to see 
them get on their horses, and just then the third brother 
came. There were three, but nobody counted him as a 
brother, because he wasn’t such a scholar as the other 
two, and so they just called him Booby Hans. 

“Where are you going, all dressed up like that?” he 
asked. 

“To the court, to get the Princess by talking! Haven’t 
you heard what they are drumming about all through 
the country?” 

And Ihen they told him about it. 

“Good gracious, I’d better go, too, then!” said Booby 
Hans, and his brothers laughed at him and rode away. 

“Father, let me have a horse!” shouted Booby Hans. 
“I feel just like getting married now. If she’ll take 
me, then she’ll take me! And if she won’t take me, 
then I’ll take her anyway!” 

“What nonsense,” said the father, “I won’t give any 
horse to you. You don’t know how to talk! Your 
brothers are different, they’re w r onderful fellows!” 

“If I can’t have a horse,” said Booby Hans, “then 
I’ll take the goat, that’s my own and it carries me very 
well!” And then he sat astride the goat, kicked his 
heels into its sides, and rushed away along the highroad. 
Whee! what speed! “Here I come!” said Booby Hans, 
and sang till the noise went trailing after him. 

But the brothers were riding ahead very quietly; they 
weren’t saying a word; they were thinking up all the 
good ideas they were going to have; everything was 
going to be very clever. 

“Hey, there, hello!” Booby Hans shouted, “Here I 
come! Look what I found on the road!” and then he 
showed them a dead crow he had found. 


BOOBY HANS 


211 


“Booby!” they said, “what do you want with that?” 

“I’ll make a present of that to the Princess!” 

“Oh, yes, do give it to her,” they said and laughed, 
and rode on. 

“Hey there, hello! Here I come! Look what I found 
now; you don’t find that on the road every day!” 

And the brothers turned around to see what it was. 

“Booby!” they said, “it’s only an old wooden shoe with 
the uppers gone! Is the Princess going to get that too?” 

“She is!” said Booby Hans, and the brothers laughed 
and they rode on and they got far ahead. 



“Hey there, hello! Here I am!” shouted Booby Hans, 
“it’s getting worse and worse now! Hey there! There 
never was anything like it!” 





































































































212 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


‘‘What have you found now?” asked the brothers. 

“Oh!” said Booby Hans, “I can hardly talk about 
how happy that Princess is going to be!” 

“Pfui!” said the brothers, “it’s nothing but mud that’s 
been thrown right up out of the ditch.” 

“That’s what it is!” said Booby Hans, “and it’s the 
very finest kind, you can hardly keep hold of it!” and 
then he filled his pockets with it. 

But the brothers rode on as fast as the horses could 
go, and they got there a whole hour ahead of him, and 
they stopped at the city gate, and there every suitor 
was given a number, and they were all stood in line, six 
in every row and so close that they couldn’t move an 
arm. That was a good thing, too or they would have 
stabbed each other in the back just because one stood 
in front of the other. 

All the rest of the country’s inhabitants were stand¬ 
ing around the castle right up against the windows to 
watch the Princess receive the suitors, and as each of 
them came into the room the power of speech departed 
from him. 

“No good!” said the Princess. “Get out!” 

Now the brother came who knew the dictionary, but 
he had clean forgotten it by standing in line, and the 
floor creaked, and the ceiling was made of mirror glass, 
so that he saw himself standing on his head; and three 
scriveners and an alderman stood at every window and 
wrote down everything that was said so that it could be 
put right in the newspaper and he sold for two cents on 
the corner. It was terrible, and the stove was so hot that 
the pipe was all red. 

“It’s very hot in here,” said the suitor. 

“That’s because my father is roasting cockerels to¬ 
day!” said the Princess. 

Boo! there he stood: he hadn’t expected that kind 
of speech: and he hadn’t a word to say just when he. 
wanted to say something funny. Boo! 


BOOBY HANS 


213 



“No good!” said the Princess. “Get out!” And 
then he had to get out. Now the second brother came. 

“It’s terribly hot in here,” he said. 

“Yes, we’re roasting cockerels to-day P said the 
Princess. 

“What’s—what?” he said, and all the scriveners 
wrote, “What’s—what?” 

“No good!” said the Princess. “Get out!” 

Then Booby Hans came; he rode on the goat right 
into the room. “It’s burning hot in here!” he said. 

“That’s because I’m roasting cockerels!” said the 
Princess. 

“Isn’t that nice!” said Booby Hans, “then I can get 
my crow roasted, I suppose.” 

“Certainly you can,” said the Princess, “but have 
you anything to roast it in, because I haven’t any pots 
or pans!” 

“But I have!” said Booby Hans. “Here’s a pot 
with tin nails!” and then he pulled the old wooden shoe 
out and put the crow right in it. 

“That will make a whole meal!” said the Princess, 
“but where do we get the gravy fromP’ 
































214 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“I have that in my pocket !’ 5 said Booby Hans. “I 
have such a lot I can throw some of it away!” and then 
he poured a little mud out of his pocket. 

“That’s what I like,” said the Princess, “you can 
answer, and you can talk, and you’re the man I want 
to marry! But do you know that every word we’re 
sa3'ing and have said is written down and put in to¬ 
morrow’s newspaper? You see there are three scriveners 
and an alderman standing by every window, and the 
alderman is the worst because he can’t understand!” 
and she said that to scare him. And all the scriveners 
whinnied and dropped ink on the floor. 

“Oh, are they so grand?” said Booby Hans, “then 
the alderman will have to have the best,” and then he 
turned his pockets inside out and threw the mud right 
in his face. 

“That’s what I like,” said the Princess, “you can 
done that, but I’m going to learn!” 

And then Booby Hans was king, and had a wife and 
a crown and sat on a throne, and we got that right out 
of the alderman’s newspaper—and you can’t depend on 
that. 






V 

































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































